So Here We Are
by jasperose
Summary: 'People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end.' - hopeless romantics never stood a chance, did they? s4, brucas, psycho!derek.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1.

This sucks. Legitimately, this really, _really _sucks.

I brace myself over the sink in my bathroom, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. _You fucking idiot._ How could I have been so careless? So utterly negligent? Actually, stupid question—I knew exactly how this had happened. He knew all the right words to say (as always, the sappy jerk) and I was in love. I sigh heavily and drop my gaze, instead focusing on the dripping faucet. This sucks.

A knock on the bathroom door breaks me from my inner mantra of _"fuck this shit." _I quickly toss the third bearer of bad news into the rubbish bin and run a nervous hand through my hair before opening the door. Rachel Gattina stands on the other side, hands on hips.

"Could you please take a little longer, bitch?" She rolls her eyes and flicks her fringe. I smile back and nod.

"Yeah, sorry, give me a minute I'll be right out." She frowns at my refusal to join in the usual repartee and opens her mouth to say something, but I shut the door before she has the chance.

"Shit," I mutter to myself, trying to pick up all the bits of rubbish I've managed to scatter throughout the bathroom in the past ten minutes. I chuck it all in the rubbish bin, then grab some toilet paper to try and cover it up. There's no way I want Rachel finding out about this.

Giving one last glare to the fool in the mirror, I unlock the door and breeze past my roommate, heading to our room to grab my things for the game later. Rachel watches me go, giving me a look but choosing to remain silent. Thank god for small miracles.

In all honesty, the very last thing I want to be doing is putting on a skimpy uniform and prancing about, cheering on sweaty horny boys as they try and put a ball into a basket. I really don't want to smile and laugh and wink and entertain, but I have to. I'm the cheer captain. I bring the cheer. Hoorah.

Rachel stands in the doorway; I can feel her eyes on me as I zip up my tracksuit jacket. I ignore her, instead reaching down to grab my trainers and slip them into my gym bag. Still not looking at her, I ask, "Ready to go, skank?"

She doesn't respond right away, and I can still feel her stupid eyes on my stupid back. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping she'll stop looking at me like she's trying to figure me out, and wait for her reply.

I hear her sigh quietly. "Of course, slut, I've been waiting for your fat ass." I turn and shoot her a grin, hiking my bag onto my shoulder before heading out the door, swatting at her bum as I go.

"Good. Come on, Gattina, we've got some hot boys to ogle." I wink at her and skip ahead. She shakes her head and grabs the keys, following after me.

"Sounds good, Davis."

The ride to the school gym is filled with mindless chatter. I think Rachel knows something's up, but I'm hoping if I act like absolutely nothing at all is out of the ordinary, it'll be fine and she'll stop wondering. As it is, she's going along with my topics of conversation, and she's even smirking. I think I've done a pretty good job.

The gym is packed, as usual. In a small town, there really isn't anything better to do on a Friday night then watch the high school basketball game. Not that watching our boys play is lame or anything; we've got a kick-ass team this year. It's just…kind of sad that the only action anyone in this town gets to see is a high school sport.

That's why I'm hoping to get the hell out of here after graduation. I've always wanted to live in a big city, where the whole place is fast-paced and exciting. The streets are overflowing with people you don't know, and the possibilities are endless. How wonderful it would be to walk down a street and be completely anonymous. I begin to get lost in a daydream of hustle and bustle, but then I remember where I am and what I found out not two hours ago, and suddenly I feel nauseous. My small smile drops off my face and I look away from the crowd, to the floor. I watch my feet, thinking how much I'd like to turn tail and book it out of here.

Rachel bumps my hip and shoots me a look. "Ho, you better get your head out of the clouds and into this gym. Like you said, we've got some hot boys to ogle. And if you want them to ogle you back, you better try to look half as hot as me." She smirks, but I can see the underlying concern on her face. Rachel's a lot like me.

"Yeah, yeah, skank. Just shut up and get changed, yeah?" I smile at her before bending down to tie my trainers, accidentally bumping into the person behind me.

"Get your ass out of my face, Davis."

Of course. Of _course, _it would be her. I take my time tying my laces, leaving my bum exactly where it was, before slowly straightening up and sending her a forced smile. "So sorry, Sawyer. I was just trying to let you know what it is you can kiss." I turn back around, not at all pleased by the look of indignation on Peyton's face. I hate fighting with that girl, ten years of friendship makes it awfully difficult for me to enjoy being a bitch to her. But that's the way it is, now.

I walk out of the change room into the empty hall to grab a drink from the fountain and potentially clear my head. Leaning heavily against the lockers, I let myself slip down until I sit on the cold tile floor, and drop my head onto my knees. How my life went from kick-ass to suck-central is hardly a mystery, but the fact that it happened at all really hurts. I had the boy I loved, I had the girl I loved, I had the makings of a real family with the friends I had come to trust with my life. And then, suddenly, it was gone. I lost the boy, I lost the girl, I lost the semblance of a family, and now I sit alone in an empty hallway on cold tile that chills me to the bone.

I miss them. Both of them. Lucas for how he made me feel—like the only girl in the world, like a precious jewel, like a dying man's answered prayer—and Peyton for the sense of family and belonging. For as long as I can remember, she's been there. On lonely birthdays, hospital stays, heartbreaks, she's been there for me. And now, both of them are gone. And I hate myself for letting it get like this.

The soft padding of feet makes me lift my head. Rachel is standing in front of me, arms crossed and head tilted. "Hey, slut," she greets, sliding down beside me.

"Hey," I mutter back, avoiding her gaze. "What are you doing out here? The game's gonna start soon."

She elbows my side lightly. "I could ask you the same question." I sigh and look down the hallway, not focusing on anything. It makes the whole world blurry, and I kinda like it.

"Yeah, well…" I trail off, shrugging my shoulders. My eyes are still unfocused, so I can't see what Rachel's doing, but I can feel her eyes on me again.

"What's going on with you? You're acting weirder than usual." I feel myself smile slightly at Rachel's ability to make her concerned words still sound somewhat insulting.

"Just tired, I guess." I turn my head to meet her gaze and give her a half-grin, letting my dimples show. She stares at me a bit longer before shaking her head and pushing herself up.

"Whatever, Davis. Come on, we got a game to watch." She offers me her hand and I take it, brushing off my backside and rubbing my arms. The cold tile made me chilly.

I lead the cheerleaders out of the change room and into the gym amidst the roar of the fans. Smiling and winking and waving, we line up and begin one of our routines. It's all so banal, each step and wave and kick, and I love the familiarity of it. It's such a relief, an escape from the unpredictability of my life right now. From losing Lucas and Peyton to moving in with Rachel to losing control of my life in the span of three minutes, any semblance of predictability is more than welcome.

We end the routine and line up to welcome our boys onto the court. Plastering the smile back on my face, I raise my pompoms and cheer loudly. They run on, all uniformed and ready, and I can't help but look for him. For his blonde head and his sincere blue eyes and his child-like smile he sports every time he steps onto a court. There he is, the grin in place and the wonder in his eyes. I lose myself in the moment, imagining another time, back when he invited me into his world, proclaiming me to be the biggest part; when he said he'd always save me.

Save me.

I can't help but wish for someone to be able to save me this time. From myself, from the inevitable, from the terrifying future, who knows? All I want is someone to save me. One of my hands drifts to my stomach and rests softly overtop the material of my uniform. Just once, I want to be saved.

The game ends in a flurry of cheers and high-fives and backslaps. Ravens win, hip-hip hooray. I don't want to cheer anymore; I just spent a whole basketball game doing that. I want to go home and curl up in my bed and I want to cry. I really want to cry.

I turn and walk quickly out of the gym, ignoring the shouts of the players and the cheers of the fans. The change room is empty and quiet. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, so ready to be gone, before I remember that Rachel drove. I sigh heavily and contemplate what to do, before just sitting down on the hard bench and waiting.

It isn't long before I'm interrupted in my solitude. Haley stumbles into the change room, still talking to Nathan as the door is slowly shutting. She doesn't notice me at first. Smiling softly to herself, she fingers the wedding band around her finger before reaching for her things. She begins to hum a soft tune, and it makes me feel like a kid, back when Peyton's mum would sing us to sleep.

She turns around with her bag packed and slung over her shoulder, and stops short, only just noticing me. "Brooke?"

"Hey, Tutor Wife." I give her a smile and motion to her bag. "All ready to go, I see. Big plans with the husband?"

She blushes a little and nods. "Yeah, kind of. Well, not really, but y'know…" she trails off, smiling at me. I smile back and shake my head.

"You crazy kids," I mutter at her. She chuckles before looking at me again. She's got that Tutor Girl look.

"Hey…are you okay, Brooke?" She steps closer, furrowing her brow. "What are you doing in here, anyway? I thought you'd be in the thick of the celebration out there." She motions toward the gym, a puzzled look on her face.

"Yeah, well, not really in a celebrating mood." I shrug my shoulders and look away, hoping for her to leave. She frowns and comes closer, searching my face.

"What's wrong, Tigger?" Her voice is so caring and motherly and I almost tell her, but I don't. She doesn't need that.

So instead I shake my head and force a smile. "Nothing, Tutor Wife. Headache. I'm just waiting for Rachel; she drove."

Haley looks at me a bit longer before accepting my answer. "Alright. If you need anything, call me, okay?" Her eyes are imploring and sincere. Ugh.

"Yeah, sure, thanks Hales," I reply, giving her another smile. "Go, have fun with your Mr. Scott. He looked hot tonight." I wink at her and she smirks.

"I know," she calls over her shoulder, the door closing heavily behind her. I sigh and shut my eyes, trying to hold my tears back. I hate crying, I really do. It makes me feel so stupid and young and incapable. But sometimes it's necessary. And I'm gonna say, yeah, in this situation, it's necessary.

My mind drifts to a time where everything was much simpler. To think that it was less than a year ago is a little ridiculous, but hey. That's the way it works sometimes. Lucas and I were together last year. Hell, Lucas and I were together a few weeks ago. But both times, I lost him to the girl I love the most. I think that's what hurt me the most, knowing that I wasn't good enough for someone like him. Knowing I wasn't ever going to be enough for him. And that Peyton was.

I've always been jealous of Peyton. She had the family, and all the love the family brings. Her mum adored her, treated her like the second coming, like the most precious stone. And her father couldn't get enough of her. They were a real family, close-knit and warm and together. When I was little, I used to spend all my time at her house, baking cookies and building forts and making up plays. Anna would help us with the baking, and she said I was always welcome in their home, whenever I needed a place to go. And Larry would pick me up and twirl me around and say he loved his two daughters. And I was so happy, until I had to go home to my big empty house with my indifferent parents and lonely rooms.

Peyton had it all. Peyton knew she was good enough, knew that her parents loved her, no matter what. She had a place to go when she was sad, she had people there to tell her they loved her and hug her tight when she felt like breaking down. She had the family I'd always wanted. And now she had the boy I'd always wanted.

I can feel a single tear streak down my cheek and I swipe it away angrily. Sure, this situation warranted tears, but not _here. _God, could I not hold it together for like, ten more minutes? I scowl and rub at my eyes, praying Rachel will be ready to leave soon.

As soon as I think the words, Rachel skips into the change room, followed by the other girls. She sees me and the smile on her face slips a bit, but she catches herself and swats at me. "Get up, skank, we better go if we want to have time to get ready."

Everything out the window moves very quickly, shooting past so fast I almost wonder if I've even seen it. The trees blend into one another and the buildings whir past, becoming blurs. Rachel sits quietly in the driver's seat, and I'm grateful for the silence.

"Home sweet home," she exclaims, pulling up in front of her mansion. I nod and get out of the car, walking quickly toward the house. Nothing sounds better right now than my bed.

Rachel follows me up the stairs, still remaining quiet. I push open the bedroom door and collapse onto my bed, snuggling into the pillow and sighing heavily. Rachel watches me for a bit before dropping her bag and stripping off her clothes, slipping a tight tank and some jeans on before going into her closet. She emerges two inches taller, the heels on her feet sinking slightly into the lush carpet, and sighs obnoxiously.

"Brooke, get your skank-ass up and dressed. We've got a party to rock." She kicks my bed, but I don't look at her.

"I don't wanna go, Rache. I'm gonna stay in tonight, I think." I burrow deeper under the covers and shut my eyes, but Rachel isn't having it.

"Bull_shit_, Davis. Get up. Come on." She nudges my shoulder and pokes my side, but I ignore her. "Seriously, Brooke? You're gonna sit in here and sulk over the boy _you _dumped?"

I frown into my pillow. "I'm not sulking, slut." I'm not. I'm waiting for her to leave so I can wallow.

"Right. And I'm not a hot piece of ass. Stop bullshitting and get that fat ass out of bed." Rachel pokes me again, a bit harder this time, and I turn to glare at her.

"One, my ass is _not _fat, and two, you're right. You're not a hot piece of ass." I smirk at her before turning back around. Rachel scoffs and swats the back of my head.

"Yous a bitch, Davis. You're really not coming?" At my nod, she continues. "But who's gonna give me a run for my money if you don't show?"

I roll my eyes and face her. "Every other girl there?" She smirks at me, knowing I'm lying.

"Whaaaaatever. Don't wait up, I guess." Rachel finally leaves, flipping me the finger as she does, and I'm finally alone.

My hands again drift to my stomach and I flinch. Again, this _really _sucks. I can feel the tears, they're burning my eyes and filling my throat. I tuck my face into my pillow and let them fall.

Saturday morning is bright and mocking. I hate it. I hate the sun and I hate the birds and I hate the happy little families going for happy little family walks. I want to sleep for the next three years, but Rachel has other plans. She's surprisingly chipper for someone who came stumbling home at four in the morning.

"Breakfast time, bitch. Get up, come on. You didn't even go out last night." She's on my bed, poking and prodding and being so annoying that I want to slap her, but before I can she scoots away, holding my covers, and slaps my bum. I shiver and scowl, but she just chuckles.

"Go away, you no-good harlot," I mutter darkly, squeezing my eyes shut. Rachel slaps my bum again and shakes her head.

"No. I don't want to eat alone. Get up, put some clothes on, and meet me downstairs in ten minutes." With that, Rachel skips out of the room. I groan and roll over, my skin covered in goose bumps from her little stunt with the blanket.

Seventeen minutes later I head downstairs, still frowning. Rachel's waiting at the foot of the stairs, tapping her foot. "Pretty sure I said ten minutes, whore."

I smile sweetly at her. "Nope. Now come on, let's get food. I'm starving."

Rachel rolls her eyes and heads out the door, keys in hand. I climb in next to her, flicking the radio on and settling down in my seat, closing my eyes. I'm still really tired. Rachel glances at me before starting the car and pulling out of the drive.

I keep my eyes closed the whole drive, kind of wishing I was back in my bed. It was warm in my bed, and safe. And I could cry without everyone knowing. I want to cry again. I feel unbelievably weak, admitting that even to myself, but it's true. Right now, I want to cry, and I want to keep crying until someone hugs me tight and tells me everything's going to be fine. But really, who's going to do that? I don't have any parents, my best friend is a bitch, I don't really want to get into that with Rachel, and everyone else is out of the question. Maybe Haley or Nathan, but honestly, they have enough going on.

I'm alone again. It really shouldn't be a surprise to me anymore. It still hurts, though, and I wish again that I could have a family that loves me a fraction of the amount Peyton's family loved her. The closest thing I've ever had to a mother died when Peyton's mum died, and ever since then, I've felt at a loss. Two girls lost their mum that day, and I don't think Peyton even realises.

The car stops and it takes me a moment to notice. Opening my eyes, I glance at Rachel before looking out the window at the restaurant. My stomach drops and I turn to Rachel, my eyes wide. "No way. We're not eating here."

Rachel looks at me and shrugs. "Why not? It's delicious and I like Karen. And besides, I thought you said you weren't sulking over Lucas."

I scowl at her. "I'm not. It doesn't mean I want to spend every moment of my free time hanging out with him." I shake my head and look at my lap. "I just don't want to eat here."

Unbuckling her seatbelt and tugging the keys out of the ignition, Rachel rolls her eyes and opens her door. "Whatever, Brooke. I'm hungry, and Karen's food is good. Just get over yourself and come on."

I glare at her through the closed door and sit quietly in my seat. I could go in, and just hope he's not there, couldn't I? And even if he is there, so what? I just won't look at him. Easy as pie. Actually, pie sounded pretty good. I sigh and unbuckle my seatbelt, slipping out of the car and meeting Rachel on the sidewalk. "You suck," I tell her. She gives me a Gattina smirk and links her arm with mine.

"Whatever, slut."

The door tinkles when we push it open, drawing the attention of Karen. She smiles kindly at us, opening her arms for a hug. "Hi Brooke, it's nice to see you," she says into my ear. I can't help but smile.

"It's nice to see you too, Karen," I tell her sincerely, hugging her tighter. After a bit she pulls back, a puzzled look on her face. I blush and look down, fidgeting. Rachel gives Karen a wave and a grin, which Karen returns.

"Can we sit anywhere?" She asks, hands in her pockets. Rachel wasn't too great with parents. Maybe it's because, like me, she basically had none.

Karen nods. "Of course, take whichever seat you'd like." She looks to me again, a look of concern on her face. She reaches for me, but I step away.

"Over there looks good," I mutter, not looking at her and instead nudging Rachel in the direction of an empty table.

"Yep. Sure does." Rachel smiles at Karen again and leads the way to the table. Once we're seated, she gives me a weird look. "Okay, seriously, what is up with you?"

I look up, startled that she didn't slip an insult into the question. Her brown eyes are boring into my own and I can only see embarrassed concern in them. I want to tell her, I do. It would be so nice to have someone else in on the little secret I'm carrying around. But I can't. So I drop my gaze and reach for a menu just for something to do.

"Brooke," Rachel says, reaching a hand out. She stops just shy of mine and I look up at her again.

"Nothing," I shrug. "Just tired. Someone wouldn't let me sleep." I send her a grin and turn my attention back to the menu. I hear her sigh quietly and give myself a pat on the back for avoiding her. "What are you getting?"

Rachel grabs the menu from me and gives it a quick look before answering. "A mushroom and goat cheese omelet. You?"

I wrinkle my brow as I think. Everything at Karen's was so good, it was hard to choose. "Pancakes?"

Rachel smirks at me. "You're sure?" She teases. I stick my tongue out at her and nod. I love pancakes.

"What would you girls like?" Karen asks, glancing between us. Rachel goes first, then me. Karen stares at me a bit longer than necessary before writing down my order. "Coming right up," she says before walking away. I rest my chin in my hand and fiddle with the saltshaker.

"So, how was the party last night?" I ask, breaking the silence. Rachel looks up from her fingernails and smiles.

"Awesome. You should've come. Bevin did a keg stand and biffed it off the deck. And Teresa totally made out with Tim." Rachel laughed and shook her head. "Oh, and Peyton and Lucas got into a fight."

My eyebrows shoot up. "What? Why? About what?" What the heck? I definitely thought those two were happy in their little broody world.

Rachel gives me a look. "You." I look at her, startled and confused. They were fighting about me?

"Me?" I don't believe they could be fighting about me, that seems unlikely. I mean, I was out of both of their lives. Why could they be fighting about me?

"Did I stutter? Yes, you. Lucas said something to Peyton about her being the reason you dumped him, blah blah blah. God, those two are so dramatic." Rachel waves a hand and rolls her eyes.

I, however, am not ready to drop the subject. "What do you mean? What did he say?"

Giving me another look, Rachel answers. "I don't know, I wasn't there for the whole thing, but apparently they were talking and Peyton went in for the kiss when Lucas pulled back and accused her of breaking you two up, or something." My mind is awfully full right now. Lucas denied Peyton? Lucas blames Peyton for our break-up?

Before I can ask anything more, the boy himself walks into the café. Both Rachel and I turn to look, and I find myself staring into the eyes of Lucas Scott. He seems surprised to see me here, and he starts to make his way over, but I shake my head slightly and look away, back at the saltshaker. Rachel, however, gives him a wave.

"Hey, heartbreaker," she greets, smirking. Lucas rolls his eyes and waves back.

"Hey, Rachel," he replies, smiling despite himself. "Hey, Brooke." It's soft and gentle and so good to hear.

I look up and nod. "Hi." Before I can get sucked into his ocean eyes, I turn and grab the saltshaker again. It's fascinating, all the little grains of salt hanging out together. I can still feel him there, so I pretend to see a scuffmark on the table and rub at it with my napkin. Rachel rolls her eyes and turns back to Lucas.

"Have a good time at the party last night, Scott?" She rests her elbows on the table and leans her chin in her hand, smirking up at him.

Lucas sighs and runs a hand over his face. "God, can we just have one party free of naked Tim?" He shudders and gives me a small smile, but I pretend to be really interested in the wood grain.

Rachel laughs lightly. "No. It's not a party until Tim is naked. And don't act all disgusted, you love it."

Lucas' eyes widen as he opens his mouth to vehemently deny what Rachel said, but his mum arrives behind him with our breakfasts before he can. She shoots him a look before saying, "Shouldn't you be working, Lucas?" and shooing him away. Karen's great.

Placing our breakfasts down in front of us, Karen gives me another warm smile. "Enjoy, girls."

"Thanks, Karen," I say quietly, smiling back. Rachel nods and grabs her fork, digging in.

"This is so good. I love this place." Rachel speaks around a mouthful of omelet and I laugh.

"Ew, Gattina, swallow." I flick my napkin at her and crinkle my nose as she smirks at my comment.

"I've heard that before," she jokes, kinking her brow. I grimace and she laughs before shaking her head. "Whatever, Davis, I know you have too."

I shriek and flick my napkin at her again, laughing. "Shut up and eat your damn omelet, ho."

She grins at me with another mouthful and winks. "Same to you, those pancakes will get cold."

I look down and lick my lips. Karen's pancakes were the best.

When we're nearly done our breakfast, I put my fork down and stand up. "Bathroom, be right back," I tell Rachel, before heading off to the back of the café. I pass Lucas on the way, and he tries to catch my eye, but I ignore him. I hear him sigh, frustrated, but I keep walking.

"Brooke!" He calls after me, and I hear him following me, but I walk faster and pray that a customer needs him. "Brooke, wait, please?"

I ignore him again, even though turning around and falling into his arms would be all kinds of wonderful. I've always felt so safe in his arms, like a protective shield against the world. It was bliss, back when we were together—every time I felt like nothing could touch me, like I was finally home. I really want to feel that again, but I know it's not going to happen.

I reach the bathroom door right as he reaches me. "Brooke, could I please talk to you?" His ocean eyes are pleading and beautiful. I swallow heavily.

"I've got to use the bathroom, Lucas," I tell him softly, still looking into his eyes. He blushes and nods, grabbing my arm before I can open the door.

"After? I mean…could I talk to you before you and Rachel leave?" He shuffles his feet and squints at me. Always so broody.

I feel myself giving in, and before I can stop myself I nod. Lucas grins and releases my arm. "Thanks, Brooke. I'll be…well, here." I feel myself nod again and he nods back before rocking back onto his heels. "Well, I'll just let you…okay." I smile a bit at his awkwardness before pushing open the bathroom door. Once inside, I lean heavily against it and sigh. What that boy did to me.

Washing my hands, I look into the mirror at the girl staring back. She really just looked like any seventeen-year-old girl. She has hazel eyes and a slight frown, and looks a little lost. But really, what seventeen-year-old isn't, right? I sigh and turn away, pushing open the door and heading back to the table, where Rachel is nibbling at my pancakes.

"Step off my food, tubby," I warn her, swatting at her hand. Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches for my food again.

"It was getting cold. Took you long enough." She takes another bite of pancake and moans appreciatively. "These are fan_tas_tic."

I raise an eyebrow. "I know. That was _my _breakfast, after all." I chuckle and push the plate toward her, smiling as her eyes light up. "You really are a fat girl at heart."

Rachel stops with a forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth to give me a hearty glare. "Jackass."

"Fatty," I retort, grinning at her. She shrugs and shoves the food in her mouth. "Done?" I ask, reaching for my fork. She nods and allows me another bite before standing.

"Yep. Let's blow this pop stand, yeah?" Rachel waits for me to stand before heading over to the counter to pay. Karen smiles at her and rings up her order, handing her the receipt before ringing mine in.

"How was it, girls?" She asks as she takes my money and counts out change.

"It was delicious as always, Miss Roe," Rachel answers, giving the woman a five-star grin. Karen smiles again and shakes her head.

"Thank you, Rachel. And Brooke?" She looks to me expectantly and I meet her warm gaze.

"It was great, Karen," I tell her, "Really great." She hands me my change and smiles.

"And thank you, Brooke. Come back whenever; I haven't seen enough of you." I feel my chest warm at this; Karen wants me around? "You too, Rachel, it was a pleasure to see you both." Rachel waves and turns to leave, but I stay where I am.

"Earth to ho-bag. Coming?" Rachel waves a hand in front of my face. I make a face at her and shake my head.

"No, I told Lucas I'd talk to him after we finished. I guess I'll just meet you back at the house?" Rachel squints at me for a bit before sighing and nodding.

"Whatever you say, Davis. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Rachel turns and leaves the café, shooting me another look before climbing into her car and driving away. I lean against the counter and fiddle with my necklace, suddenly nervous. Lucas sees me waiting and quickly takes an order before heading over to me.

"Hey. Could you meet me on the roof? I gotta give this to my mum." He motions to the order in his hand and I nod, turning to head up the stairs. I climb them methodically, placing one foot in front of the other until I make it to the top. Opening the door, I take a deep breath and let the wind tickle my face before heading over to the edge and staring straight down. It's not too high, maybe two stories, but the ground still seems pretty far from here. I like the view from so high up; I remember when I was younger, Peyton and I used to climb the tree in her back yard. One time, I made it almost to the top when I lost my footing on a branch and fell twenty feet, landing in a pile on the ground. Anna came rushing out, shouting my name and picking me up off the ground, cradling me as I cried. She drove me to the hospital, Peyton sitting with me in the back seat. I broke my arm.

That tree wasn't all that much higher than this building. I miss those days of invincibility. Nowadays, everything seems to be wrought with danger.

The creaking of a door breaks me from my thoughts. I turn and see Lucas staring at me from across the roof. I can see his swirling ocean eyes from here. He smiles tentatively at me and walks over, leaning on the railing. "I love it up here," he tells me softly, his eyes on the clouds. "When I was a kid, I used to come up here when I was upset. It would calm me down, clear my head."

I nod silently, watching him speak. The sun glints off his golden hair and bathes him in its light. I feel myself smile softly. He turns to me and notes my smile. "I've missed that," he admits quietly. I tilt my head, questioning, and his lips spread into a small smile. "Your smile. I've missed it." I blush and look away, back out over the town where I grew up. Lucas clears his throat and looks away too.

"So," I say, breaking the silence between us. I feel him shift next to me before he replies.

"So…" He turns to look at me again, resting one arm on the railing. "So."

I copy his pose and look up into his face. "You wanted to talk?" His eyes bore into mine before darting quickly down to my lips and back up. I swallow.

"Yeah," he says softly. Lucas clears his throat again before continuing. "I, uh, I was actually wondering…how you are?" He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet.

I frown at his question and quirk a brow. "You're asking me how I'm doing? What is with everyone and that stupid question?" I huff and cross my arms, flicking my fringe out of my eyes. Lucas looks back up and I can see he's confused.

"I just…I don't know, you don't seem like yourself, is all." He shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. I sigh and uncross my arms, leaning my back against the railing.

"I know." I close my eyes and let my head fall back, letting the sun explode across my eyelids. Everything blazes red. "But really, what were you expecting? For me to just keep on going, act like everything didn't suck?" I keep my eyes closed, speaking to the dazzling red.

I hear Lucas sigh, and I can picture him squinting at me in that broody way of his. "Well, yeah, actually, I guess." He shuffles again and I peek at him, standing with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

I scoff. "Right, okay." Turning back around, I lean my forearms on the railing and look down again, at the sidewalk and the people. Lucas copies me and I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. "What do you want, Lucas?"

He contemplates my question for a while, and I almost think he isn't going to answer. But he does. Of course he does. He breathes deeply before replying. "You." Simply stated, honest and raw.

Shit just got real.

* * *

><p><em>heya. so this was supposed to be a one-shot but then it KEPT GOING. so now i guess it'll be a multi-chapter fic. that is, if you want?<em>

_let me know, team!_

_looove jasper._


	2. Chapter 2

_I scoff. "Right, okay." Turning back around, I lean my forearms on the railing and look down again, at the sidewalk and the people. Lucas copies me and I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. "What do you want, Lucas?"_

_He contemplates my question for a while, and I almost think he isn't going to answer. But he does. Of course he does. He breathes deeply before replying. "You." Simply stated, honest and raw._

_Shit just got real._

* * *

><p><strong>Part 2.<strong>

"You." Simply stated, honest and raw. I jerk my head to face him and I can't help the skeptic look that crosses my face.

"Excuse me?"

Lucas steps closer to me, so our arms are touching, and repeats his answer. "You, Brooke. You asked me what I want, and I want you."

I don't know what to say. His ocean eyes are intoxicating and his smell is filling my nose and I want to fall into his arms but I can't, we can't, we're over and done. "That's not fair," I tell him quietly, not breaking eye contact. "You can't just say that to me, not after everything. It's not that simple."

Lucas moans in frustration and throws his hands up. "Why not? Why not, Brooke, huh? Is it because you're scared? Is that it?" He turns his body to face me and I look away, ducking my head.

"No. It's because we're done, Lucas, we're broken up." I gaze out across the town and shake my head. "We're not together anymore," I say quietly.

Lucas shakes his head hard. "And why not? You know I want to be with you, Brooke. Why not?"

I turn to look at him now, bewildered. Why not? Is this guy serious? "Because, Lucas, you cheated on me! Twice! With my _best _friend! Do you not understand this?" I drop my hands to my sides and meet his gaze. "You broke my heart, Lucas. That's why."

Lucas' face is anguished. It makes my chest ache to see him like this. "I never meant to hurt you, Brooke," he whispers, stepping closer. "I…with Peyton, during the shooting…she was scared, and hurt, and dying, Brooke! She kissed me, and I didn't pull away, like I know I should have. But she was…she was dying, and I was startled, and there was so much blood…"

I shake my head, not wanting to hear all the gory details. "It doesn't matter, Lucas, the fact is you kissed her. You kissed her, and that's all, okay?"

He runs a hand over his face. "No, not 'okay,' Brooke! There's something else, isn't there? Something else keeping you away?" Another step closer. I can feel his breath on my cheek.

I avoid his gaze, instead focusing on his left ear. "We can't be together, Lucas." It breaks my heart to say it all again, see his face as I tell him we're done, but I have to. "It's easier this way."

He's really frustrated now, and I can feel his breathing pick up. "You're not giving me an answer, Brooke. I know it's not just because of what happened during the shooting. Did something else happen?" I look at him then, and he knows. "What happened? Was it Peyton?" My eyes widen, surprised he went there first. But then I remember what Rachel said about a fight at the party.

"I…Lucas." He reaches a hand out, gripping mine firmly. They fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. It makes my throat tight.

"It was, wasn't it? What did she do?" He squeezes my hand and I can feel the tears coming again. I shut my eyes tightly and take deep breaths.

"Lucas, it's just easier if we just leave it as it is." Opening my eyes again, I meet his watery gaze.

"What, with me thinking it was me that broke us up by not denying a dying girl? Brooke, please." His voice breaks on the last word. I want to hug him. I have to tell him, I guess.

"Peyton…has feelings for you. I just…I didn't want to get my heart broken like the last time, and I know you liked her forever before me, and it's just all easier this way if we don't go through the triangle from hell again, because I already know I'll come out of it alone and heartbroken, again." I look down at my feet, my free hand resting gently on my stomach. Lucas is silent.

"You broke up with me because Peyton is in love with me?" Lucas sounds almost…mad. I'm a bit afraid to look at him, but he tucks a finger under my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. "Brooke, please believe that I'm not going to hurt you like that again. It was a mistake, all of it, please believe that." I shake my head, feeling the first tear escape and drip down my cheek. Lucas wipes it away with his thumb. "Pretty Girl…" he murmurs, wiping another tear away. "Remember, after the wedding reception, when I found the pregnancy test in your purse? When I realised it could be yours, do you know what I felt?" I shake my head, confused and worried and crying on a rooftop, and he continues.

"I was excited. I was happy. I was thrilled that you and I could create something so wonderful as life. It made me think that, if we could create a new life, what couldn't we do, y'know? And I know it wasn't the ideal time, what with us being seventeen and all, but I wasn't about to protest. It would mean I had something to tie us together forever. And that was amazing." He wipes my tears, now flowing more freely, away with him thumb, before leaning in and kissing them away softly. "I want to be with you, Pretty Girl."

I wrap my arms tightly around his waist, burying my face into his chest and sobbing. I feel Lucas wrap his arms around me too, squeezing me tightly and kissing my temple. This was surreal. This was unbelievable. This was too good to be true. He still wanted to be with me, even after he learned that his precious Peyton was in love with him. What the hell?

"Brooke," he whispers into my hair. I nod against his chest, but that's not good enough for him, apparently. He pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes in that way of his. "I love you," he tells me honestly, his eyes still watery and oceanic and beautiful. Kissing away another tear, he brushes my hair back, tucking a strand behind my ear. "I'm in love with you."

I nod my head, because my throat is too full of sobs to speak, and he hugs me tight against him. We stand like that forever, in our own little surreal world that I never thought was possible, and suddenly I feel like everything might _not _suck. Maybe this could actually work.

Pulling away, I look into his eyes again, taking deep breaths. I steel myself before speaking, finding serenity in his ocean eyes. "I lied," I tell him, wiping at my cheek. I see his face fall and his brows furrow, and I place a hand on his cheek. "Lucas, after the reception…I lied." He looks at me with confusion all over his face, and I take another deep breath, one of my hands resting against my stomach again. It's definitely becoming a habit. "About the pregnancy test." My voice is a hoarse whisper, but I know he hears me.

His eyes widen at my words. "W-what?" Blinking hard, Lucas squints at me. "You…lied? Brooke, what are you…what are you saying?"

I let my hand fall from his cheek and rest over his heart. I can feel it thumping unevenly against his chest. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, my eyes filling with tears again. Lucas inhales sharply, and I chance a glance at his face. He's gone awfully pale and his eyes are wide.

"Pregnant?" He repeats, staring at me in disbelief. "B-but you said…"

I nod, letting my hand slip further down his chest to his ribs. "I know, I was hoping it was wrong, like last time. But it wasn't. I'm pregnant, Luke." It feels weird to say it out loud.

Lucas is still in shock, and suddenly I'm worried he didn't mean everything he said before. Maybe this was all a huge mistake, maybe I should've left everything exactly as it was, maybe I should just go now, go home and cry some more into my pillow. I pull away from Lucas and wipe my face again, taking deep heaving breaths as I prepare to walk away from him for the last time. The first step is the hardest, I think, because I'm still close enough to feel his breaths and see the flecks of dark blue in his eyes, but I manage. I'm just about to take the second when I feel his hand on my wrist.

"Where are you going, Pretty Girl?" He asks me softly, a lone tear falling down his face. I stare at him, ready to tell him I made a mistake and I'm sorry and that I have to go, but before I can he tugs me back into his chest and hugs me tighter than before. He runs his hand through my hair and I can feel his tears as they fall from his eyes. He sighs shakily. "Don't leave me again, Pretty Girl. Don't go."

Nodding into his chest, I press a kiss to his clavicle and press myself further into him. He smells of home.

A clearing of a throat breaks into our little scared family bubble. I pull away reluctantly, but Lucas keeps a firm grasp on my waist, pulling me into him. We turn together, only to come face to face with a frowning Karen. "Care to tell me why there are several unwaited tables downstairs?" She asks her son, her eyes narrowing before she sees his red-rimmed eyes. "Lucas?" Karen's voice fills with concern as she takes in the state of us. "Brooke? What's wrong?"

Lucas looks down at me and I nod at him. He nods back and kisses the top of my head before turning back to his worried mum. Tightening his hold on me, he clears his throat and meets her gaze. "Mum…Brooke's pregnant."

Karen's face drops, and before either of us can react, she's slapped Lucas across the face. Lucas' hand shoots to his cheek and his face is all sorts of hurt, but it's nothing compared to Karen's. There are tears in her eyes and she's gone incredibly pale and her hands are shaking. Her eyes are darting between me and Lucas, worried, enraged, scared. "How—how could you be so…so stupid?" Her voice is a quiet whisper, but it hits me with the force of a bus. I find it hard to breathe, and my hand shoots to my stomach protectively. She notices this and I see her flinch. "You're so _young!" _I've never seen Karen like this. Her nostrils flare as she takes a step closer to us, and I feel Lucas tense. He's afraid he's going to get hit again. But Karen surprises us both when she opens her shaky arms and pulls us in to her. "You're both so young…" she whispers, and I can feel her tears against my neck.

"I'm sorry, Karen," I choke out, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. I clutch tightly to her and Lucas as more tears streak down my cheeks. Lucas does the same, tucking his face into his mum's shoulder and crying, his fingers digging harshly into my hip as he tugs me even closer. "I'm sorry." My voice is a ragged whisper, choked by tears and responsibilities way beyond my capabilities. I feel Karen shake her head and sigh, not breaking our broken little hug.

I can hear Lucas crying, and it breaks my heart. Karen's tears soak my neck, and Lucas is shaking under my hand around his waist. This is all too much, I don't know what to do or what to say and as wonderful as it is to be surrounded by loving people, all I want to do is run away. I want to run and I don't want to look back. I want to be young enough to still believe everything works out.

Karen feels me pulling away and looks up into my face, her cheeks streaked with tears. Lucas looks up too, with a similar expression, and I bite my lip. "I—I have to go," I mutter, wiping my face haphazardly and ducking my head as I pull away from the two. Karen starts to say something, but Lucas pats her shoulder before racing after me. I can hear his footsteps pound against the roof and his ragged breathing. I never was fast enough to get away from him.

"Brooke," he says, broken and scared. "Where are you going?" I don't want to turn around, but I do anyway.

"I have to go," I repeat, tucking my hands into my pockets and staring at his chin. He looks confused and hurt, and there are still tears falling down his face and dripping onto his shirt.

"But…why?" he whispers, reaching for me. I don't pull away; I don't think I could if I tried. "Why are you leaving me?"

I sigh heavily and look over his shoulder, at Karen. She's still standing at the edge of the roof, tears streaming down her face. She looks about as lost as the two of us. "I can't do this," I confess, shaking my head. "All of this, it's too much, Lucas. I…I want to be alone, to try and figure this out."

Lucas frowns and shakes his head. "No. No, I don't want you to go. I want to be with you, Brooke, and I want to help you through this, and I want to be a family." He tucks a finger under my chin. "Please, Pretty Girl, don't shut me out." His voice breaks, and with it so does my heart.

"Lucas," I whisper, meeting his tearful gaze. "I'm just…I'm scared. I'm so scared." Lucas' face crumples and he tugs me into him again, and I let him. I'm scared.

"I am too, Pretty Girl. But now, now we're together. And we can take on pretty much anything together, right?" His voice seeps through my skin and settles in my chest, warming it and making it swell. We can do anything.

"It's just…your mum…she…Luke." I start crying again, soaking his shirt some more, and I feel him shake his head.

"She's just as scared as us, Brooke." He kisses my temple and rocks us back and forth slowly, gently. "You're not alone in this, Pretty Girl. You've got me and my mum and we both love you."

I inhale deeply and nod against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. I've got them. I'm not alone, because I've got them. A broken and scared little family. "Okay," I concede, sniffing and rubbing at my eyes. "Okay." I feel his chest rise and fall as he sighs deeply, kissing my temple again.

I hear footsteps and feel another hand against my back. Looking over, I see Karen staring at me in concern. "Brooke, it's going to be fine. Both Lucas and I are here for you, through it all, no matter what. You've become like a daughter to me, and I love you." She wipes a tear from my cheek and attempts a smile. It's shaky and watery, but it's a smile.

"Thank you, Karen," I whisper. This is all more than I ever dreamed of, and holy shit am I overwhelmed. The boy I thought I lost is back in my arms, and the mother I never had is wiping the tears away and telling me it's all going to be okay. Kind of the best day ever, with a little setback.

We stay up on the roof for a long time, holding each other together and crying and whispering words of comfort. After what seems like forever, Karen remembers she has a café downstairs that is full and unwaited, so she dries her eyes and hugs me tightly before rushing back down. I smile at her departure, and I feel Lucas' eyes on me again. Looking up, I'm met with a smile and dancing eyes.

"Hey," he whispers, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smile back and smooth my hand over his chest, finding comfort in his beating heart. "Hi," I reply softly, tilting my head and squinting against the sun. He laughs a bit and shakes his head before leaning down and pressing his lips softly to mine.

It feels amazing incredible fantastic glorious magnificent marvelous astonishing extraordinary unbelievable and so so right, and I kiss him back, the sunlight exploding across my eyelids again. He smiles against my lips and I smile right back, feeling at peace for the first time in weeks. Maybe everything is going to be okay, right?

Lucas' soft voice breaks the serene silence that has fallen between us as we stand together on the roof, staring at each other. "I have to get back to work," he tells me, making a face. I trace the shape of his lips with my finger as I nod, sighing quietly.

"Yeah, I know." I try, but I'm having a lot of difficulty pulling my eyes away from him. It's so good to be in his arms again, and I really don't want to move. He kisses my nose and rests his forehead against mine, breathing deeply.

"Come down with me, you can sit at the bar and drink hot chocolate and eat baked goods and watch me as I work." He grins his goofy grin. "I'll even let you stare at my ass." I snort and push his chest lightly, but he tightens his grip on me. I sigh and nod, kissing him softly before pulling away.

"Get to work, then, Broody." I swat at his arm and shoo him off, laughing as he picks me up and carries me bridal-style down the stairs. "You better not drop me, Lucas Scott," I warn him, clutching his neck with all my strength. He snorts and looks at me.

"Yeah right, Pretty Girl. You're safe with me." He's stopped walking and is instead staring intently at me. I blush under his gaze and bite my lip. "I love you," he tells me quietly, squeezing me tighter for a moment. I nod up at him, still not entirely ready to tell him the same, and he smiles at me before continuing into the café.

Haley's in the back, grabbing a lunch order, when we come bursting out the door. She jumps and whirls around, dropping her order pad and covering her mouth. When she sees it's Lucas and me, her eyes widen and she just stares at us. "Hey, Tutor Wife," I greet her, giving her a dimpled grin and a wave. Lucas smiles at her as well, goofy and happy.

"Hey?" Haley says, furrowing her brow and bending down to pick up her pad. She stands up slowly, still looking at us. I get a bit uncomfortable and squirm in Lucas' arms, so he lets me down and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Um, so…what's up?"

Lucas grins down at me, kissing my forehead. "Oh, nothing," he tells her, giving me a wink. I smile back at him and burrow my face into his chest, peeking at Haley.

"O-kay. Well, I'm gonna…" she trails off, still staring weirdly at us, before she shakes her head and walks back into the café, glancing back at us occasionally. I chuckle lightly and press my face harder into Lucas' chest, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I'm gonna wash up," I tell him, squeezing him tight before releasing and heading toward the bathroom. He nods and grabs my hand, pulling me to him. "Lucas," I protest, trying to frown, but he just puts his hands on my face and kisses me softly.

"Okay, you can go now," he tells me, smiling again. I crinkle my nose and kiss him before turning around.

"Stop staring at my ass, Scott," I tell him, glaring at him over my shoulder. He puts his hands up in surrender and gives me another goofy grin before heading into the café to help Haley.

In the bathroom, I lean against the sink and stare at the girl in the mirror again. Her eyes are red-rimmed and there are tear tracks down her cheeks and her hair is messy, but she looks a whole lot better than the last time I saw her. I'm glad. That other girl was a bitch.

The water is cold against my face, and soothing. I splash it again and again, wiping all traces of my tears from my face and dabbing it dry with paper towel. Sniffing, I stare back at the mirror-girl and try a smile. It works, and she smiles back, her hazel eyes sparkling almost like before. This is good.

The café is bustling with the lunchtime rush, so I snag a seat at the bar and lean over to talk to Karen. "Need any help?" I ask, leaning halfway over the bar to see Karen on the ground picking up spilled coffee beans. She jumps at my voice and looks up, startled. I give her a hopeful grin and raise my eyebrows, and she nods.

"Sure, Brooke. Would you mind taking those orders to that table by the window?" She motions to two orders sitting on the counter and then over to a table and I nod, leaning back and hopping off the barstool.

"Coming right up, Mama Roe," I tell her, skipping past into the kitchen to grab the two orders. Her eyes twinkle as I pass her, and she swats me with the dishrag in her hand. "Hey," I squeal as I come back with the orders. She just swats at me again and I stick my tongue out at her, earning yet another swat. Laughing, I head into the fray to deliver the orders. I spy Lucas leaning over, cleaning a recently vacated table, and I stop to stare at him a bit. He said I could.

Shaking my head, I resume my delivery and place the orders in front of the patrons, giving them a dimpled grin before turning back to help Karen some more. The door tinkles as someone else enters, but I ignore it and head to Lucas' table to carry some of the dishes back. Wrapping an arm around his waist, I lean in and kiss his cheek before grabbing some plates and leading the way in to the back. He follows, and I can hear his soft laughter. It makes me smile.

"Hey, Pretty Girl," he murmurs into my ear, putting the dishes down and wrapping his arms around me. I turn in his embrace and kiss him again, giddy butterflies assaulting my stomach.

"Hi," I whisper against his lips before kissing him again, snaking my arms around his neck and playing with his hair. He grins into my mouth and tickles my sides, making me squeal. "Lucas!" I shout, hitting his chest, but he just smirks at me. "Back to work, Broody." I frown and cross my arms and he shakes his head, laughing.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say, Cheery." Lucas shrugs and heads back to work and I watch him go, my hand resting on my stomach again while my fingers touch my lips.

"Brooke, would you mind taking the orders of the people that just came in?" Karen's voice floats into the back and I shake myself back to the present. Smoothing out my shirt, I call back a "Yeah!" before grabbing an order pad.

I'm not sure who it is exactly I'm supposed to be helping, so I stand still for a while until I spot two people I hadn't seen earlier. A mop of curly blonde hair and a dark haired Scott brother. Of course, of course, it's Peyton and Nathan. Taking a deep breath, I head over to take their orders.

"What can I get you two?" I ask politely, giving Nathan a wink. He gives me a grin before ordering, and I try very hard to ignore the glare coming from the blonde. But before long, Nathan's done ordering and I have to take hers.

I turn slowly to face her, trying to avoid her eyes and instead focus on her lips. "And for yourself?" I ask, poising my pen over the pad. I can almost hear her eye roll as she scoffs and picks up her menu. Same old Peyton. "A B.L.T, I guess." How she manages to make an order sound insulting is beyond me, so I just nod and turn to leave, muttering about their drinks as I go.

I sigh heavily when I get behind the counter, dropping their orders off and filling their drinks. I glance over at their table and see Peyton staring at me, a weird look on her face. Looking away, I fill her drink up and am about to head back into the battlefield when I feel arms wrap around my stomach. Lucas kisses below my ear softly before whispering a greeting, and I lean back into his touch. "Hey, hotshot, I gotta get these drink orders out," I tell him, turning to brush my nose against his cheek. He nods and kisses me quickly before letting me go and grabbing a dishrag. I glance back out at the table and see Peyton still staring at me, a look of absolute betrayal on her face. Realising too late that she had been watching the whole time, I grimace and take a deep breath before placing the drinks in front of them.

"Here you are, and your food will be right up," I mutter, not making eye contact. I see Nathan nod and take a sip of his drink, but Peyton is just staring at me, silently demanding answers. I don't want to give them to her, so I just scratch my nose and turn around, but not before Peyton's hand has snaked around my wrist.

"Brooke," she says quietly, and I can hear the anger in her voice. Shit.

"Mhmm?" I reply, raising my eyebrows and pasting on a look of oblivion. She frowns at me and I can see the fire in her eyes. Swallowing, I struggle to maintain eye contact.

"Are you and Lucas together?" Her grip on my wrist tightens and I glance down at her hand before answering.

"Well, see, it's…" I try to think of an excuse, but really, what's the point? Everyone's going to know sooner or later. I look back up at her face and answer softly. "Yeah."

Her hand drops from my wrist as if it was burned and her eyes widen. I feel bad, because I know she's in love with him, but then I remember, no. I'm mad at this girl. We're not friends anymore. She broke my heart. So I puff out my cheeks and shake my head and turn on my heel, but not before I see a look of utmost hurt cross her face. Damnit.

I can hear Nathan whispering urgently to her, but I ignore it. I ignore the scraping of a chair as it's pushed back, and I ignore the pitter-patter of feet as they hurry behind me, but I can't ignore a hand gripping my arm and spinning me around, and I sure as hell can't ignore the angry hurt girl standing before me now. Her eyes are blazing and her lips are thinned and her grip on my arm is starting to hurt.

"What do you mean, 'yeah?'" Peyton wants to know, her nails making themselves known to the skin on my arm. I open my mouth to answer, but she beats me to it. "You broke up with him. You said you guys were done. You ended our friendship over him, and now you're _back _with him?"

She's pissed. But frankly, I don't think she has a right to be. So I tell her so. "I don't see why you're so concerned with this, Peyton, it's not like we're friends anymore." She narrows her eyes at me, but I keep going. "And _you _ended this friendship when you kissed my boyfriend and told me you were in love with him." I tug my arm out of her grasp and become suddenly aware of the attentions of the whole café. That's a bit uncomfortable.

Peyton's looking at me like I'm the Devil in a tutu or something. What is her _deal? _I give her a look before shaking my head and muttering a "whatever," turning my back on her again and going behind the counter to grab more orders or drinks or something. Just to get away from her. Haley is behind the counter, and she's watched the whole exchange. Giving me a look of concern, she puts her hand on my arm. "Hey, Tigger, you okay?" I take a deep breath before answering her.

"Yeah, Tutor Wife, I'm good. Just…that was unexpected." I glance over at Peyton, who by now has stalked back to her table with Nathan and is now fuming over her black coffee. Haley nods in understanding and pats my arm.

"Yeah, well, what did you expect? Her and Luke got into it last night at the party, and I guess she's still pissed about that." I nod absently, still watching Peyton fume. Don't feel bad! She's not supposed to be your friend; you're supposed to be all independent and shit. Don't. Feel. Bad. Haley sighs and pats my arm again. "Those two have so much drama."

I look at her then, and she sees something in my face because she suddenly becomes concerned. "Brooke, honey, what is it?" I shake my head and duck, avoiding her eyes.

"Nothing, Tutor Wife, I'm just tired. I'm gonna…go over there." I motion to the back of the café and she nods, pulling her hand back.

I'm not sure why Peyton's reaction to Lucas and me is getting me so worked up, because she isn't part of my life anymore. Friendship over, remember, Davis? But I can't help it, I still really care about her, and seeing her so hurt over something I did sucks some serious balls. Taking deep breaths, I try to control myself before I start crying, _again. _Seriously, I'm such a mess right now. All I've been doing is crying and moping.

I hear someone come into the back, and I look over my shoulder to see it's Karen. "Hey, Brooke," she says softly, placing a hand on my lower back. "Are you alright?" I nod, not turning around, and she steps closer, wrapping her arms around me. "No you're not," she tells me honestly. "But you will be." I can't stop the tears from falling, _again, _might I add, and I sniffle loudly. Karen pulls me closer to her, running her hand over my hair and tucking my face into her shoulder. "You're not alone in this, sweetie," and her voice is so warm and caring and for a minute it's like Anna's back, rubbing my back as I cry myself to sleep because my parents forgot my birthday. It's amazing.

"Why don't I take you home, and you can get some rest before Lucas gets off, alright?" She pulls back to look into my face and all I can do is nod before she hugs me again and sighs. "Come on then, darling, let's go." Karen leads me through the back and into the front of the café, grabbing her bag on the way. I try to ignore the stares of the customers as I wipe at my face self-consciously. Lucas looks worriedly at me but his mum just shakes her head and places a hand protectively on my back. The whole café is watching us leave, and I can feel my cheeks flush as I realise everyone can see me cry.

Nathan gets up when he sees us and rushes over, blocking our path. "Are you okay, Brooke? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I love Nathan, I really do, but right now I want to kick him in the balls.

"I'm fine, just tired," I tell him quietly, pleading with my eyes to let him understand. He stares at me before Karen politely asks him to move. The door tinkles as we push it open, and I take deep breaths of the fresh air while wrapping my arms around my stomach. Man, it's been a tiring day, and it's barely past noon. What up with my life.

Karen gently nudges me into her car before getting in herself and driving off. I'm about to give her directions to Rachel's when she gives me a look and tells me not to be silly. Pulling up in front of her house, she unbuckles herself and gets out of the car, opening my door before I have the chance. "Come on, you can sleep in Lucas' bed." His door has been repainted. I smile and touch the bright red paint before opening the door and breathing a sigh of relief. I love Lucas' room.

Karen watches me silently from the doorway for a bit, but I ignore her. I stare at the walls and the floor and the ceiling, feeling a sense of calm overcome me. This is what I've been missing. I look to his bedside and I'm thrilled to see it's littered with photos of us. I step forward slowly and reach out for one, smiling as I remember the day it was taken. It was when we started dating again, and we were sitting on the picnic table at the River court. He had his arms around me and was laughing in my ear, and I had a huge smile on my face. That was a good day.

I place the photo back down and look to the bed, smiling again. I bend down and pull my shoes off before crawling into his bed and inhaling deeply. It smells like him. Karen finally moves from her place in the doorway and tucks me in, brushing my hair off my forehead. "Sleep for as long as you need, Brooke," she tells me, kissing my forehead. I nod at her and close my eyes, surrounded by Lucas' smell and the warmth his house brings. The bed bounces lightly as Karen gets up and I hear the soft click of the door as she leaves. I sigh contentedly and snuggle deeper into his covers, letting the events of the last few weeks leave my mind as I slip into a dream.

Two weeks pass quickly, and people are mostly over the whole 'Brooke and Lucas are back together?' thing. Bevin still asks me if I'm dating Lucas every day, and Rachel gives me curious looks a lot, but for the most part, it's old news. Of course, no one knows about our little secret.

School is the usual hubbub. Lucas meets me at my locker, a rose in his hand. I smile when I see him, and I pick up my pace so I can be in his arms sooner. Laughing, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, feeling my heart beat erratically against my chest as I do. He kisses back and pulls away reluctantly, presenting me with the rose. I clap my hands and take it from him, kissing him again. When I pull back again, I see a leather-clad blonde walking quickly away, and my smile drops. Lucas notices and looks over his shoulder.

"Brooke," he murmurs, stroking my cheek. "There's nothing for you to feel bad about." I swallow and nod absently, still watching her back. He sighs and tucks a finger under my chin. "Hey, look at me, please." I do as he asks, because I can't deny him. "She just has to work through this on her own, accept the fact that what's done is done, and move on, okay?"

I nod again, but I know it won't be that easy. Peyton's in love with Lucas. And I know from experience how much that can suck. "I'll be right back," I mutter, before pulling away from him and racing down the hall.

I can't see her curly blonde mop anywhere, so I start ducking into classrooms to see if she escaped that way. Finally I find her, sitting on a desk with her sketchpad in her lap, staring at the page with a blank look on her face. I walk in carefully, tucking some hair behind my ear and clearing my throat softly. "Hey," I say, my raspy voice breaking the silence. Her head shoots up and she looks at me for a minute before fixing her features into a scowl.

"What do you want, Brooke," she replies, looking back down at her sketchpad. I take a few steps closer and wait for her to look up.

"I was wondering…if we could maybe talk?" I fidget a bit when she doesn't answer, instead just choosing to stare at me. After what feels like forever, she shrugs her shoulders and looks back down, fiddling with her pencil.

"So talk."

I take a deep breath and shake my head at her Peyton-ness. "I…" I'm not entirely sure what it is I should say. Sorry for taking the boy you love? Sorry for slapping you across the face? Sorry you got shot? Sorry you got denied? I love you? I sigh and start again. "I want you to know that I miss you. Every day." My voice is quiet, but I know she hears it. The only other sound in the room is her breathing. I think she's just going to ignore me, so I turn to leave, but her soft voice pulls me back.

"You miss me?" I turn back around and meet her hurt gaze. Puzzled, I cock my head. "That's all you have to say to me? You _miss me?" _I'm a little startled at this reaction. I mean, sure, I wasn't expecting her to jump up and twirl me around and proclaim us bffls, but I'm not sure why she seems mad.

"Um…yeah?"

Peyton scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever, Brooke. Do you feel better? Is your life back to being the perfect little sitcom it's always been?" Her tone is harsh and sarcastic and mean. I flinch at her words.

"I didn't mean for it to sound like I was…I don't even know. I just wanted you to know, I miss you. And I hate the way things ended between us. I just thought you should know." I shake my head and fiddle with the strap of my bag, trying to make my feet move. I want to leave, because I have the distinct feeling Peyton's about to make me feel like shit, but I can't move.

"Great. So now I know that you miss me. That's cute, but what I _really _want to know, Brooke, is why you're even bothering. You have everything you want, the boy, the friends, the popularity. You're back to being Brooke Davis: Prom Queen."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Why am I _bothering? _Peyton, seriously? You were my best friend for _ten years. _Do you really think that meant nothing to me?"

Peyton raises an eyebrow and gives me a look. "What, and now you're trying to make peace so you can float off into your beautiful life with Lucas?"

This girl is unbelievable. I swear, she's the most frustrating person I've ever met. "You're being ridiculous. I'm here, trying to make peace with my best friend, and you're being a huge bitch. For once, could you just give up on the pity party and be a real human being?"

I know I've said the wrong thing as soon as I'm finished, because Peyton's got that 'I'm gonna kick your ass' look. "Best friend? Brooke, you said it yourself: we're _not _friends. And if you never see me again for the rest of your life, that'd be just fine." She throws her pencil down angrily. "So you got your wish, Brooke! I'm out of your life and you got the boy you've always wanted. What a surprise, Brooke Davis gets what she wants."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, the other resting protectively over my stomach. "Peyton," I begin, but she's not done.

"No, Brooke. Just stop. You take everything from me. You took my boy, you took my mum and dad, you even took my _room. _ Why can't you just be happy with what you have and leave me out of it?"

My mouth is open, but no words are coming out. I can't believe what I just heard. She thinks I took her parents? I stare at her with wide eyes, but before I can form any words, she's up and pushing past me, hard. Her shoulder bumps mine and I'm sent spinning as she stalks out of the room. I stare after her, my mouth still gaping and my eyes still wide and my heart still beating heavily in my chest.

* * *

><p><em>so, chapter 2. this story isn't going to follow the timelinestoryline of season 4 exactly, cuz that shit was whack, but there are going to be bits of the season incorporated into this story. just so you know._

_also, it's highly unlikely any other updates are gonna come as fast as this one, it's just the rest of what i had written before i decided NO this is too long for a oneshot! so i cut it up. _

_let me know what you think so far, and if you have any ideas/suggestions, i'd love to hear them!_

_adios. loooove jasper!_


	3. Chapter 3

_hey guys. so this is the 3rd chapter, up quicker than i thought it would be. I noticed a lot of you have this story on story alert, but no reviews...i'd really appreciate it if you guys could tell me what you think so far, so i have something to go on? not trying to sound all review-crazy and all that, it's just a lot easier to keep writing when i know people are actually enjoying what i write. thanks team._

_read on!_

* * *

><p><strong>Part 3.<strong>

I stay in the empty classroom for the rest of lunch, suddenly not too hungry. My mind is still reeling from what Peyton said (yelled), and I can't really think of anything other than the look of anger and hurt and frustration on Peyton's face. I had no idea she had ever thought those things. I thought she loved the way that her family accepted me, how her parents treated me almost like a second daughter. I know _I _loved it; my parents barely gave a damn, so any form of parental attention was fine by me. I just always assumed Peyton felt the same, because I had always thought of the two of us as practically sisters.

I mean, I had spent more than one Christmas at Peyton's house, and there had always been a place set for me at the dinner table, and more often than not I spent the night. It had been Anna, rather than my own mother, who had given me the talk about boys and sex (at the ripe and tender age of nine), and it had been Larry who I had made father's day cards for. When I was upset, I wouldn't run to my mother, I'd go to Anna. And only now, ten years too late, did I realise how that affected Peyton.

She was right. I did steal everything from her. I stole the attention of her mum while she had been alive, and her father still. I never, _ever _knocked when I went over, interrupting her in compromising positions more than once, and Peyton treated her room like some sort of holy space. And she was right about the boy. I broke up with Lucas because Peyton had told me her true feelings for him. It wasn't about the kiss—it was about Peyton. I didn't want to hurt her by making her sit idly by and watch me with the boy _she _loved.

My head drops into my hands as I groan. I messed up big time, and no amount of stuttered "I miss yous" were gonna fix it. I hurt Peyton, and although my life is far from the sitcom she claimed it to be, it's still going a bit better than hers. She lost two mothers, she has an absentee father, and the people she loves have a nasty habit of abandoning her, myself included. God, I suck.

The end-of-lunch bell rings, but I don't move from my seat on the desk. I don't really want to move, it's nice here, and quiet and lonely, but soon enough kids start filing in and give me weird looks and I'm forced to leave. I have calculus, which is by far my worst class, so that doesn't really give me any more motivation, but I push myself up and straighten my bag before walking quickly out of the classroom.

Rachel's saved me a seat. I smile at her before sitting down, tossing my bag heavily on my desk and resting my forehead on it. I can feel her nosy brown eyes on my head, so I peek up at her and raise my eyebrows.

"Something I can help you with, bitch?"

She smirks at me before flicking my forehead. "Not a thing, slut." I roll my eyes and prop my chin on my hand, ignoring the ramblings of Mr. Roth. "Where were you at lunch today? Your hubby looked so lost without you. You guys make me sick, by the way." She makes a face and shoots me a grin. I stick my tongue out at her.

"Mature, Davis," Rachel mutters, poking my tongue with her manicured finger.

"Ew, Gattina, I don't know where that's been!" I shudder and wipe my tongue with my sleeve, still ignoring the droning tones from the front of the class. I hear a few snickers and look around at my classmates, only to notice everyone's looking back at me. Frowning, I look to the front of the class and see Mr. Roth staring disapprovingly at me.

"Do you mind, Miss Davis?" His bushy eyebrows are drawn so close together it almost looks like they've connected. I shoot him a dimpled smile and shake my head.

"Not at all, sir." The class laughs and I smile again, letting my dimples show more prominently. I'm not an idiot; I know those dimples have gotten me out of more than one sticky situation. Mr. Roth just shakes his head and goes back to his lecture on…something mathy.

The class drones on and on, and I find myself drifting off into daydreams for most of it. All of them are Luke-centered, and I find myself getting more and more restless as I wait for this useless class to be over with. I want to see Luke, like right now. I sigh heavily and thump my head onto my desk, thoroughly frustrated. I hear Rachel snort, but I ignore her.

The bell couldn't have rung at a better time. Seriously, I was about to stab myself with my pencil. I get up faster than lightening and race out the door, more than eager to see Lucas after my daydreaming. I see him walking down the hall with a couple of the guys from the basketball team, and I make a beeline for him. Wrapping my arms around his waist and stopping him mid-step, I kiss his neck and whisper in his ear, "Hey Boyfriend." His basketball friends just laugh and keep walking, and Luke smiles before wrapping his arms around me.

"Hey, Cheery. Good to see you, too. Oh, my day? It's been pretty great, thanks for asking." I pout and loosen my grip around his waist.

"Are you making fun of me, Lucas Scott?" I enhance the pout and add in some sad little doe eyes. Luke smirks at me and tweaks my nose.

"Yes."

I bite at his fingers and frown. "You're a jackass. I want to get out of here; come with?"

Lucas pretends to think about it, furrowing his brow and tapping his chin with his finger. I stomp my foot playfully and poke him in the chest. "Lucas, don't make me slap you." He laughs at that, leaning down to kiss me before whispering against my lips.

"I'll go anywhere with you, Pretty Girl."

I feel my heart melt a bit, and I squeal excitedly before grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall. "Good, 'cause I don't plan on letting you out of my sight, Boyfriend."

Pushing out the front doors, I'm laughing and tugging on his hand when I see a familiar mop of blonde curls sitting on a bench by the parking lot. She turns in our direction when she hears my laugh, and I see her scowl before packing up her things quickly and heading to her car. Shitballs, I can't seem to do anything right when it comes to Peyton.

Lucas sees her as well, and his eyes narrow when she scowls at us. "What is her problem?" he mutters, staring after her. I look up at him, slightly startled. Lucas sounds a bit angry.

"What do you mean?" I stop walking and tug his hand back, forcing him to stop as well. He runs a hand through his short hair before tearing his gaze from Peyton's back and looking at me.

"I mean, why is she so mad at you? At us, even? She's the one that messed everything up in the first place, your whole falling-out was her fault. Why does she get to be all hurt and moody?"

Whoa, Broody. Don't hold back. "She's in love with you, Luke, and every time she sees us has got to suck. I know every time I saw _you _after we broke up hurt like hell." I tilt my head and fix him with a look. "Are you mad at her?"

"Yeah, I'm mad at her. Because of her, I lost you for a second time. I missed out on precious weeks with the mother of my unborn child. I wasn't there for you." Lucas has gone all squinty again. I almost smile at the familiarity of it, but I don't.

"Lucas, don't be mad at Peyton, she doesn't deserve it." At his look, I concede. "Okay, yeah, a bit, because of the whole kiss deal, but like you said, she was _dying."_

Lucas looks disbelievingly at me. "You're defending her? After you break up with me, using the 'whole kiss deal' as your excuse, and avoid me for weeks?" His grip on my hand has loosened considerably. "What is that about, Brooke?"

Ugh. "Listen, all I'm saying is, maybe you should cut her some slack, okay? She's been through enough." I give his fingers a squeeze, but he doesn't squeeze back.

"What did she say to you today?" Lucas is back to squinting at me. I sigh and avert my eyes, looking at the 'Tree Hill High: Home of the Ravens' sign instead. "Hey. Brooke. What happened?"

"Nothing, Luke, she just made me realise something, okay? Just drop it, and cut Peyton some slack." I give him a look and drop his hand. He just frowns at our disjoined hands, not saying a word and not looking at me.

"You're really hard to figure out," he tells me matter-of-factly. I tilt my head and he half-smiles. "One second, I think I have you down pat, and then you turn around and surprise me. It's exhausting."

"Gotta keep you on your toes, Scott," I joke, poking him in the ribs. He laughs a little at that, and the almost-fight between us is forgotten. Grabbing his hand again and intertwining our fingers, I give his knuckles a kiss before speaking again. "So…you'll try and make up with Peyton?"

Lucas stares at me for a long while, squinting and brooding and figuring. Finally he sighs and nods his head. "If that's what you want, sure."

I nod my head happily and skip ahead, pulling him with me. "Yep! Just don't go falling in love with her, Broody," I warn, glaring at him over my shoulder. He laughs and reaches out, wrapping an arm around my waist and halting me.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs before kissing me soundly.

The ringing of my cell phone startles me awake, and I hit my head on Lucas' chin as I jerk around to reach it. He groans and rubs his chin, peeking at me from one eye as I struggle to answer my phone.

"Brooke, what…" he mutters groggily, rubbing his eyes. I smile at the child-like gesture before answering the phone, my eyes still on his face.

"Hello?"

"Hey whore. Where are you? Practice starts like, ten minutes ago." Rachel's voice on the other line pulls me fro my Luke-bubble and back into real-life.

"Oh, shit, I forgot, I'll be there in five. Just…do some warm-ups or something, please?" I hear Rachel snort into the phone, and I can imagine her rolling her eyes.

"Ai ai, captain. Say hi to naked Luke for me." Before I can answer, she's hung up. Shaking my head, I chuck my phone down before climbing out of Lucas' bed and grabbing my school bag.

"Where are you going?" Luke peeks at me from his place on the bed, his face snuggled into his pillow. I smile at him and pat his messy hair.

"I forgot about cheer practice. And if I'm not mistaken, someone here has basketball practice. And it isn't me, so…" Lucas' eyes widen as he realises how late he is.

"Whitey is gonna _kill _me." Sitting up quickly, Lucas reaches for his shirt and tugs it on, messing up his hair further. I tug on my jeans and reach for the door handle, sparing him a glance as I do.

"Hurry up, hotshot. I don't want a dead boyfriend. Way too Bella Swan for me." Lucas sticks his tongue out at me while hopping on one foot trying to pull his trousers up. I laugh and shake my head, opening the door and heading for his car. I hear him slam the door and suddenly he's by my side and taking my bag. "Thanks Boyfriend. Chivalry is hot."

He raises his eyebrows and laughs, opening my door for me before climbing in himself. "My noble steed will get us there. Godspeed!" Revving the engine, Lucas peels out and races down the street, calling out random words as he does. "Prithee! Methinks! Doth! Mayest! The knights will ride, the knights will ride!" I'm breathless with laughter, and I realise how much I missed goofy, carefree Lucas. With the pregnancy, everything between us has been more serious than I'm used to.

Finally, we pull up into the school parking lot and Lucas and I race off to the gym. Pushing open the gym doors, all eyes turn to us as we make a loud and breathless entrance. Whitey glares at Lucas, and I can feel him shrink next to me. "S-sorry, Coach…" he calls sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Whitey shakes his head and jerks his thumb in the direction of the change rooms. Lucas nods his head before leaning down and kissing me softly, whispering a good bye as he pulls away.

I smile at him before turning and walking to my girls. "Hey, sorry, lost track of time." I offer up a sheepish grin and shrug my shoulders. The girls just give me knowing looks, and Rachel slaps my ass.

"Alright, captain. Get that fat ass into gear, play-offs are coming up." I glare at her and swat her hand away.

"Bitch," I smile at her, quirking a brow. She just smirks and grabs a water bottle, taking a long pull. I shake my head at her and clap my hands together, calling attention. "Okay girls, Rachel's right: play-offs _are _coming up, and I don't know about you guys, but I certainly don't want to suck." Most of the girls nod and mutter agreements, but one response makes me stop.

"That's not what I've heard." Peyton scowls in the back of the group, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. I copy her pose and raise my voice slightly.

"What was that, Sawyer?"

She lifts her gaze from the floor and fixes me with a glare. "I said, 'that's not what I've heard.'" Several girls on the team gasp at Peyton's gall and their eyes dart quickly between us, eager to see a fight. Stepping toward her, I put my hands on my hips and glare right back, ignoring the twinge of hurt at her remark.

"Then maybe you've heard that Lucas and I are back together, hmm?" Her eyes flash when I say this, but I'm not gonna back down. I can't, now. "Or maybe you've heard about the sad little girl he rejected at Vegas' party two weeks ago?" I tap my chin with my finger and gasp a little. "Oh, my mistake, that was _you." _Before I can even flinch, she's slapped me across the face. I raise my hand and touch my cheek, slightly shell-shocked. I can see tears in her eyes, and suddenly I feel like absolute shit.

"Go to hell, Brooke," she spits, turning on her heel and stalking out of the gym. I watch her go, my skin still stinging from her slap and my throat tight. The slamming of a door rings through the gym, and I flinch at the harsh sound, bringing a hand to rest over my stomach.

"Practice is cancelled." My voice is raspier than usual due to the grapefruit in my throat, but I refuse to cry in front of all these people. I grab my bag and speed walk out of the gym, pushing the doors open with too much force, making them bang against the walls and echo through the empty halls.

Lucas finds me an hour later, curled up in the passenger seat of his car. He taps the window softly before opening the door and crouching down so he's eye level with me. "Hey," he says, his voice all soft and caring and warm. I swipe at my eyes and sniff, looking at my lap.

"Hi." I don't want to look at him, so I begin fiddling with my shoelace. His fingers gently clasp mine, stilling my movements. His other hand brushes my cheek, willing me to face him.

"Talk to me, Pretty Girl." Soft and caring and warm. I don't deserve any of it. I lean away from his touch and stare out the window, trying to stop the tears.

"You should call me 'Mean Bitchy Girl Who Doesn't Know When To Shut The Hell Up…Girl.'" I sigh and look down at my hands, picking at the skin on my thumb. Lucas gives a small laugh and reaches for my hand, kissing my knuckles.

"Oh, yeah?" He pretends to consider before shaking his head. "Kind of a mouthful, don't you think?"

I groan and lean my head against the seat, shutting my eyes. "Lucas, I'm serious. I was awful to Peyton today." I absently rub at my cheek. "She slapped me."

Lucas' hand is gentle on my face, but I flinch away from his touch. "No, I totally deserved it. I was a huge bitch." I open my eyes and meet his worried gaze. "Please don't make me feel better."

Shaking his head, Lucas leans in and pulls me into a hug. It's a bit awkward, given our positions, but I allow myself to sink into him as best I can. Just being with him makes me feel loads better, and that makes me feel bad all over again. It's a vicious cycle.

"You're being too hard on yourself. Again." He presses a kiss to my hair and rubs my back. "All this beating yourself up can't be good for little Lucas junior, you know." I give a watery laugh at that, and I feel Luke smile into my hair.

"Shut up." I pull back and wipe the tears from my cheeks with a shaky hand. "We're not naming our baby 'Lucas Junior.'" Lucas grins and gives in, shrugging his shoulders.

"A guy can dream." Giving me a soft kiss, Lucas stands and cups my cheek, staring at me for a minute before rounding the car and climbing in. As he moves, he reveals a person standing not three feet from us. The expression on her face is thunderstruck, and I feel my stomach drop. There's no way she didn't hear what we were just discussing. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat and before I can say anything, she's turned and walked quickly to her car.

I jump out of the car and race after her, ignoring Lucas shouting my name behind me. I reach her car just as she's turning the key, and I tap on the window loudly. She looks at me and her expression is carefully controlled. I motion for her to roll down the window and sigh in relief when she does, before realizing that, shit. Now I have to say something.

"Rachel…" I look away nervously, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. "What you heard back there, it's not—"

Rachel holds up a hand, cutting me off. "It's fine, Brooke. I knew you were getting fatter." She smirks at me and I laugh shakily, running a nervous hand through my hair.

"Do you…do you think you could keep this between us?" I'm way beyond nervous right now. If Rachel wanted, she could easily tell the whole school exactly what she had heard, and my and Luke's secret would be out. I wring my hands and stare imploringly into Rachel's brown eyes.

She stares back, and I see a very uncharacteristic flash of sympathy in her eyes. Sighing and nodding slowly, Rachel runs a hand through her hair. "Yeah, Brooke. I won't tell."

I nearly yell in relief. Thank god Rachel has become one of my best friends these past couple weeks. I reach my arms through her open window and hug her neck and shoulders tightly. "Thank you, Rache," I breathe in her ear, kissing her cheek before withdrawing and smiling gratefully at her.

She rubs her cheek and grimaces, but I know she's just kidding. "No problem, Preggers. Now get away from me, I want to go home." Smirking at me, she turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life. Rachel looks at me again. "Will I see you there anytime soon?"

Rachel tries to conceal the wanting in her voice, but I can hear it. Nodding, I smile at her. "Count on it, ho." She smirks at me before peeling away, and I stand staring after her car for a while before turning back to Luke. He's still at his car, leaning over the top of it with a worried look on his face. I give him a dimpled grin and laugh quietly as I see his whole face break into a look of relief.

"Oh my god, I was so nervous," he tells me as I approach him. I run a hand through my hair and shake my head slightly.

"Same. Jesus Christ, we are never mentioning this little situation ever again. Anywhere." I place my hand over my belly and smile. "Seriously, just about peed."

Lucas makes a face and laughs. "That's cute, Brooke. Just what I want: an incontinent girlfriend." I stick my tongue out and duck into his car, slamming the door shut and settling into the seat.

"Whatever, Broody. Shut up and drive." I buckle my seat belt and honk the horn on his old mustang.

"Your wish is my command, dear." He climbs in too, squeezing my hand as he pulls out and drives down the streets of Tree Hill. I put my feet up on the dash and close my eyes, letting the gentle hum of the engine fill my mind. Sooner than I thought possible, we're pulling up at Lucas' house. "Come on, Cheery, hopefully mum's got dinner ready and waiting. I'm starving!"

I roll my eyes at him and climb out the car, grabbing my gym bag as I do. "Do you ever think of anything else other than food?" I wrap my arm around his waist and match my steps to his.

"Of course. I also think about sex." I swat at his stomach and he laughs. "Joking, joking." His tone becomes more serious when we arrive at the door, and he tucks his finger under my chin. "I think of you, mostly," he tells me, brushing his thumb over my lips. I lean in slightly, so ready to kiss him, when he pulls back and smirks at me. "But no, it's all about food and sex." He laughs and skips into the house, leaving me glaring after him on the porch.

"That was delicious, Mama Roe." I wipe my mouth on my napkin and take a sip of water, washing down the meal Karen prepared for Lucas and me.

"Well, thank you, Brooke," she smiles at me, patting my hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Yeah, ma, that was great," Lucas adds, rubbing his belly. "I'm stuffed."

I lean over and poke his stomach. He grabs my finger and bites at it, making me laugh. Karen smiles at us and gets up to clear the table, already grabbing our plates.

"Oh, Karen, let me," I start, but she just gives me a look and shakes her head.

"Don't be silly, Brooke. I've got it, you just rest. Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?" She places the dishes on the counter and goes to the cupboard, pulling out different tea bags and sugars.

"Oh, no, I'm…" but she's already started boiling the water. Lucas looks at me and shrugs, getting up and pulling three mugs from the cupboard. "Thanks."

Karen shakes her head again, smiling softly. I sit at the table with my chin resting in my palm, watching the two making tea. I mostly watch Lucas, actually, 'cause that boy is fine. He stretches across the counter to grab the sugar, allowing his shirt to slip up and reveal a healthy expanse of skin. The muscles in his arm flex and relax as he stretches, and I can see the muscles in his back moving as he scoops the sugar out and drops it into the three mugs. Feeling my eyes on him, he turns and gives me a sexy grin before stirring the tea and handing one to his mother. She smiles at him before retiring into the living room.

"Here you go." Handing me a mug, he leans in and steals a kiss. I smile against his lips and thank him quietly, still watching him over my cup of tea. "What?" he asks, sipping his tea gingerly.

"Nothing." I take a tentative sip and gasp as the hot liquid burns my tongue. Lucas' eyes fill with concern and he puts his mug down quickly, reaching for me. I wave him away and stick out my tongue, trying to blow on it. "I fiyn I juth burnt my thongue." His concern is replaced with amusement as he watches me struggle. "Don't be a jackath."

Luke grins at me before leaning in and blowing softly on my sore tongue. I shiver at the feeling and stare at him, the pain in my tongue suddenly much less urgent. He looks up and meets my gaze, his ocean eyes swirling. His large hands cup my face as he pulls me closer, kissing me slowly. I find it hard to think of anything else when Luke kisses me this way, so my mind goes appropriately blank. I kiss him back and groan when he bites my lip gently, and before either of us knows what's happening, my legs are wrapped around Luke's waist and we're stumbling haphazardly into his room, his hands fumbling with the door knob before the door crashes open and we fall onto his bed.

He takes most of the weight on his forearms and I grin up at him, my legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. He kisses my grin and brushes his tongue against my lips, his fingers tracing blazing trails down my thighs. "Luke," I gasp, as he begins a welcome assault on my neck. I feel him smile into my skin and he ignores me, instead nipping gently at the skin by my pulse point. I grip fistfuls of his shirt and tug at it, pulling it over his head and momentarily breaking contact with his lips. He kisses me again, rolling us over while pulling my shirt off, and we land on the floor with a thud.

I start laughing, clutching at my sides and gasping for breath. Luke does the same, his laughter more breathless due to the fact that the wind is knocked out of him. I'm not sure how long we stay like that, entwined in a tangle of limbs and laughing so hard our sides hurt, but it feels wonderful. After a lifetime, our laughter dies down until it's just soft chuckles here and there. Lucas' hand is tracing lazy patterns on my upper arm and I snuggle closer to his naked chest, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

"That was smooth," I hum into his chest. He flicks my arm and grins down at me.

"One of my finer moments, I'll agree." His ocean eyes are sparkling. I lean up and press my lips softly to his for a moment.

"I better go. Rachel wants me to come home tonight." I sigh and push myself up off the floor, grabbing my shirt and tugging it on. Lucas groans at the loss of contact and reaches for me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.

"Don't go, Pretty Girl," he mutters, pulling me back to him. "I want to wake up next to you."

I smile and pat his chest. "Maybe some other time, Broody. I promised Rachel." He groans again and I feel him nod.

"Fine, fine. I'll drive you home." He releases me and sits upright, stretching out and mussing up his hair.

"Okay, I'm gonna go say bye to your mum." I find Karen reading a book in the living room, her mug of tea forgotten on the table in front of her. I don't want to disturb her, she looks so engrossed in her book, but she must've heard me or something because she looks up and smiles.

"Hi Brooke."

"Hey Karen. I'm gonna take off, but I wanted to thank you for dinner. It was really good." I smile at her, dimples and all, and she shakes her head gently, her lips spread into a smile.

"It was nothing, Brooke. You're a part of this family, and I take care of family."

My heart swells and I feel tears spring into my eyes again. I'm blaming the pregnancy on all these tears, 'cause this just isn't normal. "Thanks, Mama Roe," I whisper, hugging my torso. She opens her arms and I walk into them, hugging her tight. "Thank you."

"Anytime, darling." She pats my cheek as I pull away, and brushes my fringe from my eyes. I nod and fiddle with the hem of my shirt before clearing my throat and slapping my hands to my sides.

"Well, I've gotta go. See ya later, Mama Roe!" I wave and turn on my heel, grabbing Lucas' hand as I pass him. He smiles at his mum and follows me out the door.

"Slow down, Pretty Girl, where's the fire?" He tugs me back and wraps an arm around my shoulders, tucking my face into his chest. I take a shaky breath and press my face deeper into him, trying to stop the tears. Stop crying, Davis.

"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" Lucas is stroking my hair and trying to look at my face, but I don't want him to see my tears. I shake my head and take another deep breath.

"Nothing, Broody. Let's go." I pull away and try to wipe the remaining tears from my cheeks surreptitiously, turning and heading to his car. Luke follows with a look of confusion on his face.

"Brooke, what is it?" He turns the radio down and looks at me as we pull up to a red light. I shake my head and look down into my lap, embarrassed.

"It's just…I got overwhelmed again," I admit, peeking at him through my lashes. He cocks his head, his brow furrowed, and I reach out and smooth out the line between his eyes. "Mama Roe is being so great about this whole deal, and so are you, and it's just…it's overwhelming. I'm sorry, I'm being stupid." I look back into my lap and sigh shakily.

"You're not being stupid, Brooke," Luke tells me softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You're seventeen and pregnant. It's completely understandable, and honestly? I think it's adorable." I glance up at him and see a small smile on his lips.

I wipe the last tears from my eyes and match his expression. "Thanks, Luke," I whisper, biting my lip. He nods back and brushes the pads of his fingers against my cheek before looking away and stepping on the gas.

We ride in silence for a while, just kind of soaking it all in, and before I know it Luke's pulling into Rachel's drive. He shuts the engine off and turns to face me, squinting at me in the fading light. "We're gonna be okay." He sounds so sure; I can't help but believe him. I nod and lean over, kissing him softly.

"You'll try to make peace with Peyton?" I question, looking into his ocean eyes. He sighs quietly before nodding his assent.

"I'll do it tonight, as soon as you get your pretty little butt inside." He presses his forehead against mine and kisses my nose.

"Thanks, Luke." Lingering for a moment longer, I finally pull back and grab my bag from the floor of his car, sending him a wave before running to the front step and pushing the door open. I pause in the doorway and raise a hand, smiling when he does the same.

"Rache, I'm home!" My voice echoes in her huge house. It's a moment before I hear her call back.

"About time, roomie! I'm bored!"

I smile and shake my head, dragging my gym bag up the stairs into our bedroom and dropping it on the floor. Rachel's in there, lounging on her bed and flipping through magazines. She looks up when I drop my bag and gives me the once over.

"So, this whole 'I'm pregnant!' deal. What's that about?" She shuts her magazine and rolls over, resting on her side.

I sigh and sit on my bed, hugging my pillow close to my chest. "Oof." Grimacing, I pick at a loose thread before continuing. "Well, you know, sex has been known to lead to pregnancy and shit, so…" I trail off, glancing up at her and shrugging. Rachel scoffs and sits up, crossing her legs.

"You're an idiot, Davis. So, it's Luke's?"

I frown at her and hug my pillow closer. "Yes, it's Luke's. Who else's would it be?"

Rachel shrugs and flicks a piece of lint from her boyshorts. "Who knows? You aren't exactly the most innocent girl in Tree Hill."

"One to talk, Gattina," I shoot back, sitting up straighter. She just shrugs again.

"I never said I was innocent, slut. You and I both know that would be a lie." Fixing me with a look, she purses her lips. "Just…you're sure?"

I shut my eyes and press a hand to my forehead. "Yes, Rachel, I'm _sure. _ I haven't been with anyone since Luke." My voice has dropped to a quiet murmur and I fiddle with the comforter on my bed. I hear Rachel sigh and I look up at her. "I haven't! Thank god I avoided that disastrous online thing you set up for me."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Whatever. That guy was hot." She rests her elbows on her knees and looks at me again, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face. "So…do you know what you're gonna do?"

I look away and trace shapes on the comforter. Truthfully, I have thought about all the options, but I just couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. I know it probably would've been the best solution, because there's no way I'm ready to have a kid, but the thought of destroying this tiny little miracle made me feel kind of sick. A tiny piece of Lucas and me, growing in my stomach into a real human being—that was amazing. I couldn't get rid of it.

There was always adoption, but I'm not sure I could give it up once I went through the huge ordeal of pushing a human out my vag. Also, I'm pretty sure once I held the tiny little baby in my arms and looked into its beautiful little eyes and had its tiny little baby fingers curl around my finger, I'd never want to let it go.

I sigh heavily, feeling more tears building and choking me. "I thought about those other options," I tell her quietly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "But…I don't think I could do it. Give it up, I mean."

I meet Rachel's gaze and I'm surprised to see her eyes are glistening. "Honestly, I don't think I could either." We stare at each other for a while, me trying desperately to hold off more tears and Rachel biting her lip, most likely doing the same.

My ringing phone breaks the silence and I tear my eyes away from Rachel, reaching into my gym bag and pulling out the device.

"Hello?" I answer, my voice still thick with unshed tears.

"Brooke? Are you okay?" Luke's worried voice floats over the airwaves. I smile at the sound of his voice and pick at the pillow still in my lap.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just talking to Rachel." I glance up at the girl in question and she's watching me. When I look up she smiles softly.

"Okay, cool. So, I talked to Peyton." I perk up at this, my fingers stilling against the soft fabric.

"Oh?"

Lucas exhales heavily. "Yeeup. And guess what?" I shrug my shoulders before remembering he can't see me. Rachel smirks at this and I make a face at her.

"What?"

"When I went to see her, there was some guy on her porch. I was all 'Who are you?' and he was all 'Well, who are you?' and then Peyton pulls up and glares." I chuckle at Luke's recounting of the events and urge him to continue. "So, Peyton comes onto her porch and glares at me and says 'What are you doing here?' and I tell her I'm there to talk to her. Then she turns to this guy and says 'And what are _you _doing here?' and the guys says, get this…" Luke pauses, and I groan into the phone.

"What, Lucas, what did he say?" I hop a little on my bed. This is like a soap opera.

"He says, 'I'm Derek. I guess I'm your brother.' Can you believe it?"

Whoa. This totally _is _like a soap opera. My mouth drops open as I process Lucas' words. "Her _brother? _Since when does Peyton have a brother?" She'd never mentioned any other family members in the whole time I'd known her.

"I know, hey? Anyway, the whole 'here to talk' thing kind of came to a screeching halt. That guy totally had me beat." Lucas sighs into the phone and I can almost hear him squinting. "So I guess I'll have to talk to her tomorrow."

I'm still stuck on the 'Peyton has a brother' development, so it takes me a while to respond. "Uh, yeah, yeah probably. Hey, what was he like?" I'd always wanted a brother. I guess it comes with being an only child.

"Um, I dunno, tall, blonde, out of the blue." Lucas exhales shortly. "I don't know, I only met the guy for like two seconds. Peyton just looked at him and ran into her house, and I didn't want to hang out with him, so I left."

"You left some random guy on Peyton's doorstep? Luke, she lives alone!" I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

"What did you want me to do? Demand she let me in and stay the night with her?" Lucas sounds tired.

Sighing, I resume my tracing of the comforter. "No," I concede quietly. "But…Luke, what if he's dangerous?" Peyton always gets so lost in her own little art-freak world, she never even notices when people come in to her house.

"Brooke, I'm sure she's fine. From the two-second interaction I had with the guy, he didn't seem too shifty." I sigh in frustration and Luke gives in. "I can drive by her house later if that makes you feel better."

"Yes, it does. Thanks, Broody." I smile into the phone and I think he's doing the same.

"The things I do for you," he mutters, before saying louder, "I'm gonna go, try and get some homework done before I go on Peyton Patrol. Love you, Pretty Girl."

My heart swells at the words. "Love you too," I whisper, closing my eyes as I listen to his soft breaths. He doesn't hang up right away and I'm glad. I wasn't ready to say good-bye. "Miss you, Broody."

I hear him chuckle quietly before he answers with a "miss you too, Cheery," and hangs up. I flip my phone closed and flop onto my back, hugging my pillow tight to my stomach. I stare up at the ceiling and I feel a goofy grin spread across my face, but I can't help it.

"You guys are gross," Rachel calls from her bed. I flip her the finger and she laughs. "So, Peyton has a brother? Wonder if he's hot." Rachel wiggles her eyebrows suggestively before chucking a pillow at me and crawling under her covers. "Goodnight, Preggers."

I roll my eyes and chuck the pillow back. "Night, Rache."

* * *

><p><em>so there you have it. chapter 3. derek's in town, rachel knows all about brooke's situation, and lucas is adorable. i have the next couple chapters mapped out, and hopefully they can get all up on here just as fast :). next chapter is some derek interaction, aw yeee. and our favourite tutor girl lurks into the situation.<em>

_oh ps the title of this fic is a song by Bloc Party, off their first studio album 'Silent Alarm.' fun facts._

_looooooove jasper!_


	4. Chapter 4

_it's baaaack. _

* * *

><p><strong>Part 4.<strong>

"Okay Preggers, get up off that fat ass and help me with these, would ya?" Rachel pokes her head into our bedroom and raises her eyebrows. I sigh and push myself off the bed, straightening my shirt and following her down the stairs.

"What am I even helping you with, Rache?" She doesn't answer me, instead just shrugs her shoulders and carries on down the stairs. I roll my eyes and am about to ask again when we walk into the foyer. Five kegs are sitting on the tiled floor, and a man with a clipboard is waiting patiently for Rachel's signature.

"Rachel?" I stare at the kegs nervously. "What's going on?"

She grins at me and signs the paper with a flourish. "We," she begins, winking at the delivery man and patting his arm before ushering him out the door, "are having a party tonight."

"What? Why?"

Rachel puts her hands on her hips and fixes me with a glare. "Brooke Davis, don't tell me you forgot. It's game night!" Her face turns devious. "And game night means hot Nathan, and drinking, and random hook-ups. And, oh, what's this?" Rachel looks around the foyer. "A huge-ass empty house with a pool, no parents, and a bunch of kegs? Awesome."

I smile and bump my hip with hers. "Right, right. Okay, so how are _we _supposed to move _those?" _ I gesture to the kegs, and us kinking a brow.

"I figured you could use the practice of lifting heavy loads. Get busy, Davis."

I scoff at her and slap her arm, and she laughs before grabbing her phone. "Here, call Lucas and bribe him with sexual favours or whatever. I've already called Mouth." She hands me her cell and skips off, sending me a smirk as she goes.

Shaking my head and smiling, I flip open her phone and dial the familiar numbers. Hitting send, I can't help but laugh when Lucas' name comes up as 'Broody Son Of A Bitch.'

"Rachel?" Luke's voice picks up.

"Hey, Luke, it's me."

His voice gets considerably brighter. "Hey, Pretty Girl. I was just thinking about you. What's up?"

I smile into the phone. "Nothing, Rachel's just got me on keg duty. Do you think you could come by and help me?"

"Sure. Um, what's keg duty?"

I shake my head and laugh softly. "Just come over, Broody. Don't make me ask again."

Luke laughs and I can hear him smiling. "Okay, jeez, I'm coming over."

"Thanks, Luke," I sing, hanging up and following after Rachel. She's in the kitchen, cutting up an apple.

"Luke's coming," I tell her, and she smirks at me.

"Tell him to clean himself up before he gets here, then."

My mouth drops open and I swat at her arm, laughing at her dirty mind. "Get your mind out of the gutter, horndog. God, I swear you're worse than me."

Rachel looks me up and down, lingering on my stomach. "Nope," she tells me, turning back to her apple. I roll my eyes and place my hands over my belly. Leaning against the counter, I watch Rachel cut up her apple meticulously. She feels me watching and raises an eyebrow at me.

"You're not getting my apple, Preggers."

I make a face and reach for a slice, only to get my hand slapped. "Hey!" She just shrugs and pops a slice into her mouth. "I guess there isn't a surgery yet to get rid of your inner fat girl, huh?"

Rachel glares at me and holds the knife threateningly. "Watch it, Juno."

I wink at her and snag a slice. "Love you," I sing at her, skipping away into the foyer as the doorbell rings.

Opening the door, I'm greeted by the sight of Mouth McFadden and Lucas Scott, my two favourite boys. "Hey guys!" I hug Mouth and give Luke a kiss before leading them inside. "Okay, so, I need you guys to help me move these…somewhere. Rachel!"

Rachel comes sauntering into the foyer, winking at Luke and sending Mouth a grin. "What's with the yelling, slut?"

I ignore her and point to the kegs. "Where do you want these?"

She considers for a moment before deciding. "Three out by the pool, one in the kitchen and one on the deck, I think." She nods her head and says, "Yep. Sounds good. Let's go, boys!"

Luke grimaces and bends down to lift one of the kegs. "Jeeeeesus, I'm gonna have a hernia," he moans, standing and carting the keg into the kitchen. Mouth watches him go before looking at the kegs with trepidation.

"Brooke…I definitely cannot lift that." I grin and nod.

"I'll help ya. Come on, Mr. McFadden." Together we bend and lift a keg, struggling to keep it raised between us. "Oh my god," I wheeze, "How did Lucas carry this on his own?"

Mouth's face is going red and he doesn't answer, just motions with his head toward the direction of the pool and begins shuffling. I follow suit, trying my hardest not to drop anything. Lucas comes out of the kitchen and sees us struggling, and his face becomes a mask of concern.

"Brooke! Brooke, let me take that." He gently nudges me out of the way and takes my end of the keg, before fixing me with a look. "You shouldn't be straining yourself like this," he tells me in a low voice. I smile and kiss his lips quickly.

"Thanks for caring, Broody," I whisper before Mouth's voice breaks into our bubble.

"Kay, you guys are cute and all, but my arms are gonna fall off and I'm gonna die if we don't get moving."

The kegs are all set up, the valuables hidden away, and the four of us are lounging out by the pool and relaxing before the madness we call basketball is to begin. My feet are dipped into the pool and my head is resting against Luke's shoulder, his fingers playing gently with mine. Rachel and Mouth are lying on the chairs behind us, talking about something or other. Luke and I haven't spoken in a while; he occasionally presses a kiss to my head and sighs into my hair.

"Did you talk to Peyton?" I ask him, my eyes still on the ripples my feet are making in the water.

I feel his chest expand and deflate with his sigh. "Yeah," he whispers, kissing my temple again.

Lifting my head slightly, I rest my eyes on his face and stare at him for a while.

"What?" He looks down at me and makes a face.

I sigh theatrically. "So…how did it go?" I wrap my hand around his bicep and keep my eyes on his face. He looks away, back at the water.

"It…went." Sighing, Lucas looks down at his lap. "She's really hurt about the whole thing."

I feel my chest tighten. Even though Peyton's being a bitch, and she slapped me, and basically made everything really difficult, I still don't like to know she's in pain. I'd rather it was me hurting, to be honest. Peyton has enough to deal with.

"Yeah, I guess so," I mutter, pressing my cheek into his shoulder again. "Did she say anything else?"

Lucas nods his head. "Yeah, we actually had a pretty long talk. It got a bit awkward at times, but I think we mostly worked it out, y'know?"

I exhale heavily. "No, I don't, but why don't you tell me?"

Lucas gives me a gentle squeeze. "Well, when I went back to her house she wasn't happy. You know, the whole 'brother' deal and everything else she's been dealing with. Anyway, it took a bit of convincing, but she let me in and we sat and talked about everything that had happened: the shooting, the kiss, the fight, the wedding, the accident, her mum…legitimately everything. We even talked about you." He looks down at me when he says this, and I'm surprised to see the hint of a smile on his face. "She misses you, you know."

I shake my head and press my face into the fabric of his cotton shirt. I really don't want to cry again. Lucas feels my impending breakdown and continues. "We got onto the topic of me and her, eventually. I think the whole thing, y'know, the first time…it was more about the mystery and the secrecy of it all. It felt…I dunno, it felt like a movie or a romance novel or something. But it wasn't real." He squeezes me tightly and presses his lips to my forehead.

"So you guys talked about the time my best friend and my boyfriend got together. Check. Anything else?" It still hurts to be reminded of what they did, and I want to get away from that topic of conversation as soon as possible.

Luke starts talking again. "I explained to her how much you mean to me. I told her that, when I wasn't with you, I was thinking about you and the way you are. I told her that, without you, I felt…broken? Yeah, broken. Like a piece of me was gone." Lucas pauses and looks back at the pool, my feet still making ripples in the water. "She seems to get it, she really does. I think she's just hurt because she wants her best friend back, and before we got back together Peyton and me were pretty close, too. She just…she's been through hell, with Ellie and everything, and now, the two people that were constants in her old life aren't there anymore."

Tears are welling up and threatening to fall. I clear my throat roughly and nod into his shoulder. "I know," I whisper, swiping at my eyes, "I want to get back to how we were, before all this drama happened. But, Luke, she looked so _hurt _when she slapped me. I don't think—I miss her, Luke, everyday, but I don't think it's just about you."

Lucas tilts my head up and looks into my eyes, squinting and figuring. "What do you mean?"

I take a breath and avert my eyes, looking across the pool to the garden on the other side. The flowers are starting to bloom. "When I went to talk to her, she—she said some things. About me, and how I always get what I want, and how I steal everything from her. And she's right, Luke, she's right. I do. I'm an awful family-stealing little girl." I wrap my arm around his waist and bury my face into his shoulder, trying to stop the tears. Luke lifts an arm and holds me tight, rubbing my back gently.

"Brooke, you don't have anything to feel badly about. Peyton was just hurt—she still is—and she needed a way to hurt you like she was hurting." His voice is soothing and soft and caring in my ear. I love him.

"But I did! Her dad used to call me his 'bonus daughter,' and Anna treated me like her own, and I stole them from her, and now she hates me," I choke out, my face still pressed against his chest. I can feel his breath on my cheek and his hands so gentle against my back. It calms me a bit, but I'm still crying. I'm so goddamned emotional all the time.

"Hey, Pretty Girl, stop. You didn't steal her family; they loved you. And for the part about 'always getting what you want,' well, she knows that's not true. Why does she think you spent so much time at her house, anyway?"

I nod and hug him tightly before releasing and taking a few deep breaths. "Do you think we'll ever be friends again?" My voice sounds small and timid. Lucas gently places a hand on my cheek and fixes me with that ocean stare of his.

"I'm sure you will, Pretty Girl. You just have to give her time, and let her know that you still love her, and miss her, and need her." He presses his lips to my forehead and hugs me into him again, tucking my head under his chin. "She's just gotta work through some stuff on her own, I think."

We sit quietly for a while, me trying to get my emotions under control for the millionth time and Luke just holding me. Our world dissolved back into a tiny little Luke-and-Brooke bubble, so the sound of Rachel's voice is startling.

"Okay, Lovefest, quit with the groping and get with the program. We're rollin' out, and you better be in that car when we do." She musses my hair. "What's a cheer team without their captain, huh?" I swat at her hand and she pulls away quickly before smirking. "No matter how fat she's getting."

I jump up and wrap my arms around her in a bear-tackle-attack-type hold, finally managing to get my arm wrapped around her neck in a headlock. I rub my knuckles against her skull as she grabs at my arm, trying to get me to let go. "Who's getting fatter, huh, skank?"

Rachel laughs and smacks my ass, hard. "Let go, you crazy bitch!" She squirms around and manages to get her head out of my hold, wrapping her arms around my waist and picking me up. She stumbles back slightly, getting her balance before stepping forward, toward the pool.

"Don't you dare, you dirty tramp! No!" I swing my limbs wildly, trying to escape, but Rachel just tightens her hold around my waist. "Lucas! Luke, help me out here!" He just shrugs and laughs, getting out of Rachel's way. "No!"

"Just…shut…up…and…deal…with…it…bitch," Rachel pants out as I continue to thrash in her arms.

"When did you get so strong! Let me go!" Rachel shakes her head and grunts out a, "No!" before finally making it to the edge of the pool. "Rachel, don't do it, don't!" I hear her wheeze a laugh before I'm falling into the pool, clutching onto Rachel's arms around my waist tightly.

We surface together, spitting water. I'm laughing, but Rachel's not impressed. "You dumb bitch! Look at me! I'm soaked!" She splutters and lunges for me, but I swim away and stick my tongue out.

"You started it, whore," I tell her before climbing out of the pool and heading for Lucas. He gives me a worried look and backs away. "Hey, baby, come here." He shakes his head and holds his hands out, trying to keep me away. He can't. I jump at him, forcing him to either catch me or have me hit the pool deck hard. Lucas groans as I hug him tightly, getting his clothes soaked.

"You're mean to me," he whines, pouting. I lean forward and kiss his pout, resting my forehead against his.

"You should've saved me, Broody," I tell him before winking and hopping off him. Rachel's gotten out of the water by now, and is trying to capture Mouth in a soaking hug. "So…game?"

After changing into our cheer uniforms, we all pile into Rachel's Denali and head to the high school for the game. I'm sitting up front with Rachel, while Mouth and Luke sit in the back with towels wrapped around their shoulders. "Please Rachel, can we stop at my place for some clothes? It's gonna be so cold," Luke whines from the back seat, pouting again. Rachel glances at him in the rearview and smirks.

"Only if you promise to change in the car, Scott." She winks at him and chuckles as he blushes, sending me a smirk when I smack her arm. "What? He's hot."

Lucas runs inside his house and comes back a few minutes later, changed and ready, with another change of clothes in his hand for Mouth.

"What did I say, Scott?" Rachel teases, glaring at him. Luke shrugs and climbs into the car again, tossing the clothes at Mouth.

"Thanks, man," Mouth says, tugging off his wet shirt and pulling on Luke's.

"No problem. Now, can we please just get to the game?"

The gym is packed, as usual. Rachel and I are the last cheerleaders to arrive, except for Peyton. I search the crowded gym for her, but there's no sign of her.

"Forget about her," Rachel whispers in my ear, bumping my hip. I nod absently and continue searching, a knot of uneasiness growing in my stomach.

"Where have you been, Brooke?" Haley asks me, shooting a glare at Rachel.

"Hey, Tutor Girl, sorry, we got a little tied up back at the house. But, we're here now!" I smile at her and raise my pompoms. She rolls her eyes and nods, reaching for my hand.

"Come on, let's get situated." She tugs me in the direction of the other girls, still ignoring Rachel, and says a quick goodbye to Luke and Mouth. "So, you excited for the game?"

"Now that Luke's not playing anymore, it's kind of boring." I shrug, my pompoms tickling Haley's arm as I do. She laughs and nods.

She swats my pompoms away before saying, "Yeah, well, there're plenty of other boys to ogle, right?" Haley waves to Nathan as she speaks and he smiles back.

"You got that right," Rachel pops in, winking at Nathan and bumping Haley's shoulder with her own. Haley glares daggers at Rachel's back and I pat her shoulder.

"Don't worry, she's just crazy. Nathan's yours, we all know that." Haley doesn't let up on her glare, but her posture does relax significantly.

"That girl is unbelievable." Shaking her head, Haley sighs and turns to face me. "How do you stand her?"

I look over Haley's shoulder to Rachel, who's now standing talking to Bevin and Theresa. She feels me looking and glances over, smirking and giving me a wink. I smile back before answering Haley. "She's…actually really cool, once you get to know her. She just makes that difficult." I shrug and look back at Haley. She's fixed me with a Tutor Girl look.

"Sounds like someone else I know, actually," she says, before smiling at me and looking out at the court, finding Nathan easily.

I scour the crowd again, but still can't see her. "Hey, Haley, have you seen Peyton?"

Haley tears her gaze from Nathan and looks back at me, frowning. "Yeah, she's here somewhere with that brother of hers. Have you met him?"

I glance toward the doors and shake my head. "No…Luke has."

Haley nods and follows my gaze. "He seems alright. It's a little out of the blue, but hey, a brother's a brother, right?"

I nod absently, still looking for the familiar mop of curly blonde hair. Finally, the doors push open and she strolls in, followed by a tall boy with blonde hair and a crooked smile and a camera fixed around his neck. I feel the uneasiness in my stomach dissipate and I sigh quietly. Haley pats my shoulder and heads over to the other girls, but I ignore her. I use this time instead to watch Peyton and pretend that she doesn't hate me.

Her brother glances over at me and I smile at him, waving a little. He smiles back and Peyton sees. She looks over at me and glares heartily, grabbing her brother's hand and tugging him away. He looks back over his shoulder and shrugs apologetically, waving and smiling again. He seems okay to me.

The game starts and the Ravens come out hard. Cheering and spelling and waving my pompoms about is a nice distraction from the situation a-brewin' in my belly, and despite what I said earlier, basketball isn't boring to watch. Haley was right, there are a lot of hot boys, but the hottest one is sitting next to Mouth at the announcer's table. I glance over a lot, and every time he's either watching me and smiling or watching the game and smiling. I'm glad he looks so happy.

A Raven's victory is expected and granted, and soon enough we're heading to Rachel's car to get to the after-party. In the parking lot, I see the familiar blonde curls followed by the tall blonde head of her brother. I drop Lucas' hand and kiss his cheek quickly before racing off in their direction, telling Rachel to wait for me over my shoulder.

I reach them just as they reach Peyton's car. I tap her brother's shoulder and he turns around, surprise written all over his face. Peyton fixes me with a glare over her car. "Hey," I greet, smiling at him again. He smiles back, crooked and charming.

"Hey," he replies. "Good game."

I smile and nod, "Yeah, Ravens are looking good this year." He nods too, and we fall into an awkward moment of silence before I stick my hand out and say, "Brooke Davis, nice to meet you."

He grins down at my hand and takes it in his gently. "Hi, Brooke Davis. I'm Derek Sommers, Peyton's brother."

I shake his hand and smile some more. "It's nice to meet you, Derek. Hey, so we're having a party at my house to celebrate the Ravens win, if you wanted to come." I glance over his shoulder at Peyton. "Both of you."

Peyton looks away, but Derek keeps eye contact. "That sounds great, Brooke Davis. We'll be there." I smile and nod again.

"Okay, cool. So…I guess I'll see you there." I pull my hand from his and turn away, walking quickly back to Rachel's car.

"What was that about?" Rachel asks, giving me a weird look.

"Nothing," I shrug, "Just inviting Peyton and her brother to the party." Rachel rolls her eyes and starts the car, muttering to herself. I look back at Luke and he smiles at me, ocean eyes swirling. One way or another, it's gonna be one hell of a night.

The house is packed. Our whole senior year seems to have showed up for this party, but I'm still hard-pressed to find a face in the crowd that I want to talk to. Luke's off talking sports or something with Mouth and Skills, Haley's being all Naley with Nathan, and God knows where Rachel could be. It's past eleven, so it's unlikely it involves clothes. I sigh quietly and lean against a wall, letting a heavily intoxicated Theresa stumble on by me, Tim clutching onto her hand and leering. Smirking at the two, I ruffle Tim's hair and continue on my trek to find a friendly face.

Pushing through Vegas and Fede, I trip into the kitchen and catch myself on the island. Bevin gives me a drunken grin and pats my cheek, mumbling something about dimples. I shake my head and brush my fringe back, leaning against the island and surveying the crowd in the kitchen. Bevin's rambling away about skirts versus shorts with Courtney and Erin, Will and Jeremy are having a chugging contest, and Vegas and Fede and a couple other basketball guys are cheering on two girls as they make out against the wall. That's cute.

I grab a cup and pour myself a glass of water, dodging Courtney's flailing hand as she reaches for my arm and heading outside to the pool. It's a little tamer out here, although everyone is still stumbling around and shouting. I sidestep a leering Andrew and scoot quickly over to a familiar head of dark brown hair.

"Nate! Finally, I was dying in there. Where's Tutor Wife?" I plop down heavily on the lounge chair and rest my head on his shoulder. He laughs at me and takes another sip of his drink.

"Haley's…over there, talking to Peyton and her brother." He nudges my head and points out over by the gazebo. Sure enough, there's Tutor Girl with a broody Peyton and a crooked smile Derek. As I watch, Peyton throws her head back and laughs at something Haley says, and Derek smiles as he watches Peyton. His eyes seem to wander to her chest and his hand lingers at her lower back and he steps a bit closer to her, still smiling his crooked smile. Peyton glances back at him, still laughing, and wraps an arm around his torso.

Huh. Who knows, maybe that's regular big-brother behaviour. I've never had an older brother; the closest thing I've had is probably Nathan, which is a little worrisome seeing as I've slept with him, so I've got no real information to go on. But Peyton looks happy, so it probably isn't too weird. Maybe he's just a really affectionate guy. Who knows? Not me, that's for sure.

"Oh, yeah. Have you met Derek yet?" I tear my eyes away from the happy family plus Tutor Girl and look back at _my _version of a big brother.

Nathan shrugs his shoulders and keeps his eyes on Haley, the corners of his lips curving upward. "Briefly. Peyton just introduced him real quick at the game, and then bustled off to show him her locker or something? I dunno." He takes another sip of his drink. "She seems happy, though."

I nod, my gaze returning to the gazebo scene. She really does look happy. She's actually smiling, which is something I haven't seen in quite a while. I remember when we were younger, after her mum died, Peyton's smile was an enigma. Sometimes, she'd go days without it, and I'd feel myself slowly getting sucked into her sad little lost girl world. I'd do everything and anything to make her smile again, more often than not getting in trouble for my attempts. I once flooded the downstairs bathroom trying to make a pool for her. But as soon as Larry saw his heartbroken daughter smiling and laughing, I was forgiven. He took us out for ice cream, and the bathroom was unusable for weeks.

I feel a twinge of hurt at the fact that Peyton's smiling without my help, but that's selfish and weird. She deserves to be happy, and it's not like I'm the only person to ever make her smile. I'm just being nostalgic, I guess. Which has to stop, like, _now, _otherwise I might get all teary and gross again.

"Brooke?"

I shake myself out of my Peyton-thoughts and tear my gaze from the gazebo, which is now empty. Peyton and Derek are sitting at the other end of the pool, her feet dangling in the water as he sits and whispers something in her ear. Haley's now sitting on Nathan's lap, trying to get my attention.

"Yeah?" I glance from Haley to Nathan, trying to figure out if I major spaced and missed a whole conversation, or just kind of spaced and only missed a few words.

Haley pushes her hair behind her ear and fixes me with another Tutor Girl stare. "I said, are you having a good time?" Her eyebrows are furrowed and her head is cocked, like she's trying to figure me out. Ugh.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Great time. Great party." I motion with my arm, sweeping my hand out across the backyard before taking a big sip so I don't have to answer any more Tutor Girl questions.

Nathan snorts and nudges my shoulder. "Whatever, Davis. You're bored and we all know it." He reaches for my cup, saying, "I'll get you a refill." Before I can protest, he's snagged it out of my hand and sniffed. "Whoa. Brooke Davis, are you _sober?"_

I scoff and raise my eyebrows at him. "Like it's such a rare sight. Give me my water back, Hotshot, before I push you into the pool."

Nathan stares at me incredulously before handing back my cup and shaking his head. "Wow. Hell must be really cold right about now." Scratching the back of his neck and giving me a lop-sided grin, he turns and heads back into the house. I watch him go, smiling a little and shaking my head at his antics. He'd be the best big brother in the world, I think.

"So, Tutor Girl, how do you like Peyton's surprise brother?" I ask, looking back at her and giving her a dimpled grin. Haley tilts her head and considers me for a while. Her stare makes me uncomfortable. Haley has that way of making me feel like she can see all of me with one look, and it's really unnerving. I don't want her to see everything.

"He's pretty cool, actually. He's basically Peyton with a y chromosome. But he seems to be a bit more upbeat. You know, not so much with the brooding." She's still staring at me with that look, and I can feel her scrutinizing my every expression. I think Haley's gonna be one bad-ass mum.

"Peyton does enough brooding for one family, I guess," I shrug and drop her gaze, looking at the bottom of my cup and swirling the water around. I hear Haley sigh and feel her place a hand gently on my leg. Here it comes.

"Brooke, is…is everything alright?" I try not to, but I can't help but look up. And when I do, I'm met with those big brown eyes just full of concern and maternal instinct and suddenly I want to either tell her everything or vomit. Preferably vomit, 'cause I don't think I'm ready to spill the beans.

"I'm fine, Tutor Girl. Just a little overwhelmed I guess. Y'know, with senior year and all." I shrug again, my go-to move apparently, and look away from her concerned gaze. She's not going to drop it, though; I can sense it.

"Brooke." Again, I try not to look into her eyes, but she's working some sort of magic. I meet her gaze and fight off the urge to puke, 'cause this girl can totally see into my soul with that look. "What's going on with you?" Her hand is still on my leg, so I focus on that instead. But Haley won't have that, no. She needs to be able to see my face. Her fault if I end up vomming all over it.

"Haley, I—" But suddenly there's a tall blonde boy with a crooked smile standing in front of me, and I'm saved. I'm saved! 'Til next time, Tutor Wife. I grin up at Derek and flash Haley a 'maybe later?' look. She looks a little disappointed, but shrugs her acceptance.

"Hey, Brooke Davis." Derek's voice has a bit of a southern lilt to it. It's nice.

I give a little wave and say, "Hi, Derek. I'm glad you could make it."

He shuffles his feet a little and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Well, when the head cheerleader personally invites you to a party, you're a stupid man to refuse." The crooked grin makes another appearance, and I find myself becoming strangely comfortable in his presence. Probably because he's Peyton's brother.

"Then, it's good to see you're not stupid." I wink and shrug a shoulder and Derek chuckles lightly.

"Good thing."

Haley stands up and reaches for her cup, announcing, "I need a refill. You guys want anything?" Derek raises his hand and shakes his head no, but I hold up my cup and flash her a wink.

"Thanks, Tutor Girl!"

She rolls her eyes and saunters off, dodging Bevin and Erin as they dance suggestively in front of the doors. Derek and I are left in silence, me still watching Bevin and Erin and Derek watching me. He's the one to break it.

"So, Brooke Davis, this is your house?" He looks around and whistles lowly. "Nice digs."

I snort at his term and shake my head. "Actually, it's my friend Rachel's, but I live here too."

Nodding in understanding, Derek lowers himself into Haley's vacated seat. "Your parents don't mind?"

I lean back in my chair and pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them snugly. Resting my head on my knees, I turn my face to look at Derek. "Nope. They actually don't live here anymore."

Derek raises his eyebrows and his lips part slightly. "Huh. Tree Hill has a thing about absentee parents, hey?" He leans back in his chair too, stretching his legs out and crossing them.

"Yep, seems like it," I reply, looking up at the dark night sky. There are quite a few stars out, despite the scattered clouds. I find myself wishing silently upon one. Derek notices my silence and glances over at me.

"Wishing on a star?" His eyes are still on me. "Wow, I haven't done that since I was little."

I finish my wish and narrow my eyes at him. "Don't knock it, Sommers."

He raises his hands in surrender and looks to the sky. "Maybe it's worth a shot," he muses, glancing back at me and grinning. "Whaddya say?"

I smile back and shake my head. "I've already wished. You can only have one wish per night."

"Fine, then I'll wish alone." He shuts his eyes and mutters something under his breath, before nodding his head curtly and looking at me again. Grinning crookedly again, he nudges my arm. "Wanna know what I wished for?"

I nudge him back. "Heck no! If you tell me, it won't come true." I kink an eyebrow at him and give him a look. "You're kinda bad at this, you know that?"

Derek adopts a hurt expression and holds his hands over his heart. "You really know how to cut a guy deep, there, Brooke. Give me a break; it's been years since I did this."

I roll my eyes and smirk at him. "Whatever, Derek."

We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us watching the stars. Haley still hasn't returned with my drink, but I find that I don't really care. It's relatively quiet out here, and it's nice to just sit and think for once.

When Peyton and I were younger, we used to have summer camp-outs in her backyard. We'd lay out on our sleeping bags with our flashlights and our popcorn and we'd just watch the sky and tell stories. Those nights were the nights that I got to know Peyton the best. There's something about the darkness that allows people to be wholly more honest and open than they ever would be in the daylight. It's liberating and beautiful and so freeing.

I miss that Peyton, the one that would glance at me in the darkness and ask me if I believed in Heaven and cry softly when I would reply with a "yes of course Peyton that's where your mum is she's up there with my grandpa and they sit and paint and dance and think about us. And sometimes on the darkest of nights we can see them grinning down at us." And I'd point to the brightest star in the sky and say "see look there's your mum she's smiling down at you can't you feel it?"

Derek's soft lilted voice breaks the silence. "Brooke?" he asks, turning his head to look at me. I turn my head too, copying his pose, and raise my eyebrows in question. "Did you know that Peyton says that the stars are actually loved ones that are gone now? She told me that when she's feeling sad or whatever, she'll go out to her backyard and find the brightest star, and she'll just know."

I find it kind of hard to breathe. My throat is thick and my eyes are stinging with unshed tears and I want to leave, I do, but Derek is my only link to my Peyton. Taking a moment to clear my throat, I reply thickly, "Really?"

Nodding, Derek continues. "Yeah. I thought that was pretty cool." Still staring at me, Derek pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. "Do you always party this hard?"

I laugh, though it's a little forced, and follow his movements. Running a hand through my hair and coughing slightly, I give him a glare. "Shut it, Sommers. You obviously haven't heard about me yet."

Derek scoffs and rubs his nose. "Oh, I've heard." He gives me a wink and I smirk back, trying not to flinch at the implications of his words. Of course, Peyton's probably told him all about my less-than-reputable past.

"Sorry Brooke, I got caught up in the kitchen. Something about 'librarian fantasy,' I'm not really sure." Haley sounds flustered as she hands me my water. I smile and nod, taking a sip before grimacing and spitting it back into the cup.

"Oh, Haley, that's some extremely Russian water," I tell her, wiping my mouth with my hand. Derek laughs at my expression and Haley becomes apologetic.

"I'm so sorry! I gave you mine; here, I'll go grab yours." Haley grabs the cup from me and gives me another apologetic look before heading back into the fray.

Derek's laughter subsides and he tugs on his earlobe while considering me. "Not into the drinking these days?"

I give a short laugh and wrap my arms around my knees again, leaning forward in my chair. "You could say that," I mutter, rubbing my nose on my knee.

"From what I've heard, you're quite the party girl. Why the sudden change of heart?" Peyton's brother has certainly gotten nosy.

I sigh and stare at the pool. The lights from the gazebo are reflected in the calm waters. "I don't really feel up to it tonight, I guess." I shrug at the reflections and try to ignore Derek's scrutiny.

Before he can ask more on the subject, a familiar voice breaks into our conversation. "That's got to be a first. I'm surprised you're still clothed; from my experience this is usually the point in the night where you sleep with anything with a dick." Peyton's sauntered up and fixed me with a glare.

I sigh heavily into my knees. "Hi, Peyton," I mumble, not looking at her. I still feel Derek's eyes on me, but I ignore him.

Peyton tugs Derek up and shoots me another glare before leading him away. Derek calls a "goodbye, Brooke!" over his shoulder and I wave half-heartedly. They pass Haley on their way back into the house and Peyton gives her a high-five as she does.

"Here you go, one water. Hold the Russian." Haley hands me another cup and smiles at me, sitting down and facing me. She rests her elbows on her knees and stares at me until I give in and meet her eyes. "So…you gonna tell me what's going on with you, or do I have to beat it out of you?" She says playfully, but I can hear the concern and worry in her tone.

"It's nothing, Haley," I murmur, rubbing the bridge of my nose and sighing. "Really."

Haley looks at me dubiously and shakes her head. "I'm calling bull. You just called me Haley. And there's no dimple on that cheek of yours." Scooting forward, Haley places her hand on my shoulder and does the Tutor Girl look. "Seriously, Tigger, what is it?"

Vomit or tell-all? I'm really on the fence about this whole thing. On one hand, who better to tell than Haley? She's level-headed and sweet and Lucas' best friend, and _married _for Christ's sake. But on the other…I don't want anyone to know, 'cause right now, it's like we're in our own little world, just me and Lucas and baby, and it's a really great place to be.

But then I look into Haley's mothering eyes and I just know I'm gonna tell her. So I take a deep breath and furrow my brows and steel myself. "I…" but it's harder than I thought it would be. I glance around the back yard, at all the people over by the house and the couple in the gazebo, and I feel my heart pick up. _You're being a pussy, Brooke, _I tell myself. Inner-me is a little rude. _It's Haley; it's Tutor Girl! Do it. _

I try again, turning so our knees are touching and my pose mirrors hers. Taking another deep breath, I meet her anxious gaze. "I'm pregnant, Haley." My voice is a raspy whisper, and I can barely hear it above my pulse pounding in my ears.

Haley's eyes go wide and her mouth drops open, her hand slipping from my shoulder to cover it. I flinch and run a hand through my hair in agitation, waiting for her to say something, _anything_. But she just stares.

"Listen, Haley, I—"

A tiny body being hurled into me cuts me off, my face becoming buried in the comforting shoulder of Haley. She hugs me, hard, and I feel my eyes sting again. Muttering little reassurances into my hair, Haley strokes my back and holds me as I try not to cry.

"How long?" I meet her eyes once more, trying to pretend that my own aren't watery.

"How long have I known, or how far along am I?" I whisper, resting my face on my hand.

"Both?" Haley reaches out and grabs my free hand with both of hers. Staring down at it, I mutter my answer.

"I've known for about a month." Haley's sharp intake of air tells me she's a little bit pissed I haven't told her yet. "And I'm approximately two and a half months along." Another gasp. I lift my eyes from our intertwined hands and stare imploringly into her eyes. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I would've told you, but everything got so messed up."

Haley nods, though I know she's not all the way pleased with me, and pulls me into another hug. "Does Lucas know?"

I nod into her shoulder and take a shaky breath, exhaling against the skin of her neck. "Yeah; he's the first person I told, actually."

"Is that why you guys got back together?" The question isn't meant to sting, but it does. I flinch and pull away from the hug.

"No." I don't look at Haley, instead focusing on the party still going on some fifty yards away. "That's not why, Haley."

Haley seems to know she's offended me, because her face gets soft and repentant. "I'm—that's not—it just…it just seemed sudden, is all," she stutters out, rubbing her thumb across my hand.

Sighing, I nod and look back at her. "I know. That's not how it happened though. I broke up with him because I was hurt and angry and scared, and my best friend was in love with my boyfriend. Again. I was…worried it was gonna be just like last time, and I'd be all alone again." I try to even out my breathing and make my hands stop sweating. I don't think Haley really minds right now though.

"Oh, Brooke…" I'm not particularly fond of the pity I can hear in her tone, but I don't say anything, because it's Haley. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. But you'll _never,_" she emphasizes the word with a squeeze of my hand, "be alone. Remember that, okay?"

My throat is tight again. When I became such an emotional mess is beyond me. "Thanks, Hales," I choke out. "That means a lot, actually."

She just nods and squeezes my hand again. "So…everything's good? With you and Lucas, I mean," she adds at my look.

I nod, my hair covering my face a bit. "Yeah, we're good. He's actually…he's excited, as strange as that sounds. And I guess I am too. It's just—it's not the best timing. But," I feel myself begin to smile as I think of my Broody, "I think we're gonna be fine." Meeting her gaze, I let my dimples show. "He told me he loved me," I tell her, "that day on the roof."

Haley smiles at my expression and nods knowingly. "Of course he does, Brooke. You've changed him, in a good way. He used to be so shy and lonely, and you brought him out of his shell. You two are good for each other, y'know?"

"Yeah," I murmur, more to myself than Haley. "Yeah, we are."

"There you are, I've been looking everywhere!" Lucas comes trundling over to us, Nathan not far behind. "I missed you, Cheery," he tells me seriously, before tripping over his feet and stumbling into the chair Haley's sitting on. I laugh and grab at his sleeve, tugging him to my chair.

"Okay, Broody, come on. You're being cut off." I smile at him and lace our fingers together. He smiles at our intertwined hands for a long while.

"So, Hotshot, how's the house holdin' up?" Glancing at Nathan, I notice him smile at Lucas' expression before answering me.

"Oh, you know the usual mayhem. Hopefully it's standing by morning. But who knows?" Nathan shrugs and takes a swig of his drink, grimacing as the liquid burns his throat. "So, Davis, how's your night going? You know, being sober and all."

I stick my tongue out at him, and Lucas pokes it and giggles softly. He nuzzles his nose against my cheek and whispers an "I love you" into my ear. Trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, I answer Nathan. "Not too bad, I talked to Derek for a while. He seems pretty cool."

Lucas nods into my shoulder, his head resting there. "Yep. Pretty cool guy."

Nathan sits down behind Haley, pulling her back to lean against his front. "Yeah, I saw you guys talking. Peyton wasn't too pleased about that." Haley swats Nathan's thigh and he flinches. "Ow! What the hell, Haley?"

She rolls her eyes. "You have no tact, Nathan," she hisses. Lucas chuckles.

"No tact."

I smile and rest my head on Luke's, listening to his soft breaths. I kiss his forehead and murmur into his skin, "I love you too, Broody."

Naley and Luke and I sit like that for a while, watching the party and laughing occasionally at the antics of our classmates. It's strange to think that a year ago, none of this would be happening. I wouldn't be with Luke, murmuring declarations of love into his ear, Nathan wouldn't be hugging Haley tight against his body and playing with the wedding ring on her finger, and we wouldn't be able to sit comfortably in silence, just being. Everything's changed.

"Well, well, would you look at the happy couple?" Yep, everything's changed. Peyton comes ambling over to our group, Derek trailing behind with a drink in his hand and a strange look on his face. She glares at Luke and I curled up on the lounge chair, her eyes lingering on our intertwined fingers. "So how are the Lovebirds tonight, huh? Everything just _peachy? _Is your life fan-fucking-tastic as usual, Brookie?" Derek shrugs apologetically at me and reaches for Peyton's shoulder, but she shakes him off.

Luke's sitting up and fixing Peyton with an unhappy look. "Peyton, I thought we talked about all of this. Why are you saying all these mean things?" He's squinting and looking at her like he really can't understand why. I can.

"Oh my God, Lucas, are you serious?" Peyton scoffs and gestures to me. "Look at this bitch. She has everything she's been wanting. And she uses every opportunity to rub it in my face." She turns to me, her eyes glazed but blazing. "Are you happy now, Brooke? Are you glad that I came to your party, so you can let me know just how pathetic I am?"

Okay, _now _I'm a bit confused. "What? Peyton, I—"

But she's having none of it. "Well, congrats, Brooke. You got what you wanted." She reaches behind her and grabs Derek's wrist, pulling him forward. Placing a hand on his back, Peyton pushes him forward forcefully and he stumbles into my chair, trying not to land on my lap. "Here you go. Now you also have the older brother you've _always _wanted. I'm out of here."

Sending me one more hurt and disgusted glare, Peyton turns on her heel and stalks away, stumbling slightly when she gets to the door leading into the house. The rest of us stare after her, shocked and kind of blindsided. I glance at Derek and he's staring after Peyton with a look of extreme confusion on his face. "I really don't know what just happened," he admits with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry," I tell him, patting his knee. "We don't either."

Luke scoffs and his grip tightens on my fingers. "Yes, we do," he announces, glaring at the door Peyton disappeared into. "She's mad because we're together. Well, whatever. She needs to get off her fucking high horse and realize she was a huge part of the problem. And I know I said I would try to work things out with her," he says, turning to meet my gaze and squinting, "but I'm still really pissed that I wasn't able to be there for you for the first few weeks of your pregnancy."

I feel my stomach drop to my toes. This super can't be happening right now. My eyes widen and my mouth drops open and I squeeze his hand really tightly, trying to take the last words back. Lucas just stares wide-eyed back at me, then beyond me to Peyton's brother. He's staring at my stomach with a bewildered look on his face. I don't want to look at Nathan.

"What did Lucas just say, Brooke?" Nathan's voice is deceptively calm. I know that voice.

I swallow and tear my eyes from Lucas' face. "He said—um, he said…I don't know, I didn't hear him. Oh, wow, I have to go, because I can see Theresa really needs my help with her shoes," I ramble, still not looking at anything but Lucas or my twisting fingers as I jump up and try to head toward the house. Nathan's hand shoots out and grabs my wrist and I freeze. Derek is still just staring at me, and I think I can see the corner of his mouth curve up.

"Brooke." His eyes are hard and demanding, and his grip on my wrist isn't soft.

"Nathan," I plead, looking into his eyes. "Not now. Not here." I nudge my head in Derek's direction and bite my lip. Nathan acknowledges this and drops my wrist, but his eyes are still hard.

"Tomorrow, then," he tells me. I know there's no arguing with Nathan. I sigh and nod and go to sit back down, next to a stammering Lucas and a strangely smirking Derek.

"So," he says, fixing me with his bright blue eyes and grinning crookedly, "Does Peyton know?"

God_damn._

* * *

><p><em>there ya go. chapter four! so naley knows, d-rock knows, and peyton's super-pissed still. fun!<em>

_let me know what you think, if you liked it, hated it, want to burn it, y'know. _

_LOOOOOOOOOVE jasper!_


	5. Chapter 5

_hello friends!_

* * *

><p><strong>Part 5.<strong>

I'm so dreading this stupid talk with Nathan. This is going to be terrifying and stressful and all sorts of bad. If only Luke could've keep his beautiful mouth shut, none of this would be happening and I could still go on pretending that it was just him, me, and baby. Oh, and Tutor Girl but I'm not sure she counts. She's just so…Haley. So unjudge-y and kind and motherly—oh I'm glad I told her.

I've been sitting in my car for the past twenty-four minutes. I'm still buckled in, and my keys are still in the ignition. If I wanted, I could turn those keys and jet outta here so fast, and I wouldn't have to have this frightening talk with Angry Big Brother Nathan. But I know I have to. I sort of owe it to Nate, which sucks. To make matters worse, Luke couldn't come because his mom needed help down at the café, so I'm facing the Spanish Inquisition alone.

Taking a deep breath, I unbuckle my seat belt and push open my door, tugging my keys out of the ignition as I go. This is it. This is the moment of truth. This is the day I, Brooke Penelope Davis, die. Nathan is gonna shit a brick.

I knock on the door lightly. Maybe if I do it softly enough, no one will hear and I'll be able to just…leave. But apparently Nate has dog ears because before I know it, the door's swinging open and Angry Big Brother Nathan is standing in the doorway. He's got a stern look on his face and his blue eyes are boring into mine. I want to look away but I can't. I swallow noisily and wave a little.

"Heya, Nate. Nice day, huh?" I smile nervously and tuck my hands in my pockets.

He grunts and steps aside, forcing me to make my feet move. I sigh and duck my head, shuffling past him into the apartment.

"Take a seat." He motions to the couch, his voice serious. My palms start to sweat.

"Thanks," I whisper, avoiding his eyes. I don't want to see the disappointment and big-brotherly sadness I know will be there. I sit down and tuck my hands under my thighs, covertly wiping the sweat from my palms.

He doesn't sit, instead choosing to stand in front of me with his arms crossed and his back stiff. He has to know he's intimidating as fuck. I squirm in my place on the couch and Nathan just watches me, his face expressionless. I hate sitting in silence. I hate it. Especially when I know there's a whole lot to be said, but no one wants to start. Then I just know that eventually the silence will be filled, but it'll be filled with stuff I don't want to talk about, so it makes the actual silence so much more stressful. I keep shifting and avoiding his eyes and he just stands there. I guess he's waiting for me to start. I don't know how.

"So," he says. His voice is deep and firm. I jump a bit at the sound and clasp my hands together tightly. "You gonna tell me what's going on, or are we gonna sit here all day?"

I bite my lip and finally look at his face. "I…well, I guess we could talk about…this…" I gesture feebly at my stomach and drop my hands back into my lap. Nathan narrows his eyes and nods his head.

"Okay." He takes a step forward and I shrink back into the couch. "Get talking, Davis." Uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets, he fixes me with a look. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Oh man. I flinch at the tone of his voice. Where do I even begin? I don't want to tell him all of this because I don't want to disappoint him. But I've got to. And he's still staring at me and intimidating the shit out of me. "Um, so, it's kind of—ah." I exhale sharply, blowing my fringe off my face. Rubbing the bridge of my nose harshly, I swallow heavily. "Nathan, I'm sorry."

Nathan's face softens instantly. "Brooke, no, that's not—don't apologise," he's crouched down so he can look into my eyes, his hands resting on my knees. "I just want to know what happened. Are you okay?"

I feel my lips pull into a smile at this new Nathan. No more intimidating big brother, but just a concerned pally pal. So much easier to deal with. "I'm fine, Nate. It's just a little scary, y'know?" I shrug my shoulders and look down at my lap, fiddling with my fingers.

"Is it Luke's?"

I'm a bit offended everyone keeps asking me that. I mean, I know I'm not exactly virginal, but come on. I fix him with a look and say, "Yes, it's Luke's. God, you guys all keep asking me this and it's getting a little insulting."

Nathan squeezes my knee apologetically. "Sorry. It's just…I know how you are." At my look, he hastily continues. "I mean, I know how you deal with stuff like a broken heart. You drink and you hook up. I didn't mean…you know."

I nod and cover his hand with my own. "I know."

A nice silence falls over us then. Nathan's still crouching in front of me, and for the first time in a really long time I feel truly safe. Not that I don't feel safe with Lucas, but with Nathan it's a whole different kind of safe. It's family safe, like the feeling you get when you know there's someone out there that would do anything to keep you from getting hurt. And I know Lucas would do that, but it's nice to know that Nathan would do it too. And now I know that if Luke ever breaks my heart again, Nathan'll beat his ass.

"So what are you going to do?" Nathan asks quietly, finally moving from the floor onto the couch. He leans his elbows on his knees and stares at the floor.

"I've thought about everything I could do, you know, with this sort of thing. But I couldn't get rid of it, and I think adoption would be way too hard. I think…I think I'm gonna keep it." I'm whispering, but my words fill the whole room. Nathan nods but doesn't look up from the floor, and we fall back into silence.

I feel comfortable with Nathan. I've known him longer than I've known Peyton even, and it's just so easy with us. I don't know what he's thinking like I do with Peyton, and I don't know all of his looks and the feelings behind them, but I know Nathan. I know he's kind and gentle and strong and fiery and I know he's got my back, no matter what.

In eighth grade, some guy started telling all his friends in the locker room about how he'd slept with me at a party. We were in middle school, and anything more than making out was a huge deal. Nathan and I had gone to that party together, and he knew for a fact I hadn't done a thing with that boy. So this guy is going on and on about how it was and how he was such a boss, and Nathan just walks up and clocks him. The guy hit the floor and before he could do anything, Nathan was on top of him. It took three guys to get him off the boy.

"Are you scared?"

I blink quickly and focus back on Nathan. He's looking at me now, and his eyes are worried and bright. Fiddling with the ring on my index finger, I clear my throat. "Yeah," I admit, biting my lip. "Yeah."

Nathan nods and wraps his arms around me. I tuck my head into his shoulder and take deep breaths, inhaling the safe smell of him. When I was eleven, my mom and dad got in a huge fight over dinner one night. They were shouting and screaming and throwing dishes and insults and I tried to block out their voices but I couldn't. I knew they were fighting about me again. Peyton was away with her dad and I didn't know where to go, so I got on my bike and ran to Nathan's. He took one look at my face and engulfed me into a hug. His shirt smelled like laundry and Nathan and familiar, and ever since then it's reminded me of safety.

"I'm really scared, Nate," I whisper into his shirt. He tightens his grip around me and I feel his exhale on my head.

"We'll get through this, Brooke. We always do."

We stay like that for a while. After a bit my hands stop shaking and my stomach stops knotting and I'm able to breathe a little better, but I don't let go of him. He rubs my back and kisses my head and is just so Nathan it warms my heart.

"I better go," I tell him, pulling away and smoothing my hair. "Karen looked like she could use some help at the café."

Nathan nods and tucks his finger under my chin. "I'm here for you, you know that?"

I smile shakily at him and nod. "Yeah, I know."

He walks me to the door and wraps his arms around me again. I hug him back, burrowing my face into the fabric of his shirt. "Thanks, Nate."

He releases me and smiles, pushing me toward the door. "Anytime, Davis. Now get outta here, you're cramping my style."

I laugh and wave, shutting the door behind me. Taking a deep breath and feeling a million pounds lighter, I smile and head back to my car.

I was right; Karen's is packed. I toss my keys into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, pushing the door open and searching the café for Broody's familiar form. I spot him behind the counter, looking frazzled and counting change.

"Who's a girl gotta sleep with to get decent service around here?"

Luke's head jerks up and a smile adorns his face when he sees me. "Hey, Cheery," he greets, handing the customer their change and shutting the register. "How did the talk with big brother Nate go?"

I shrug, looking around at the bustling café. "Oh, y'know, the usual. Oh, and by the way, he's going to end your life." I smirk at the worried expression on his face.

"Oh shit…" he mutters, clenching his fists nervously. "He's really mad?"

I nod my head, enjoying his discomfort. "Yeah. He's _pissed. _Better watch yourself, Broody."

Lucas stops fidgeting and squints at me. "You're an awful person."

I shrug again and shoot him a grin. "You're too easy, Scott."

He laughs and whips me with his dishrag. "You gonna help out, or are you just gonna sit there and terrify me?"

Placing my elbows on the counter, I lean forward so my face is inches from him. "Actually, I'd rather just…" I lean closer, so our noses brush. His eyes close and he leans closer. "Grab a drink." I smirk and lean back, chuckling as he pouts and squints.

"Like I said: awful person."

Rolling my eyes, I meet him behind the counter and wrap my arms around his neck. "You like me anyway. That's a flaw in _your _character."

He grins and leans down, but Karen's harried voice stops him. "You two are cute, I get it, but we have a café full of people and not enough help." Lucas sighs and presses his lips to my forehead quickly.

"We better get moving, or mom will throw a fit." He hands me an order pad. "Go get'em, Tiger." Swatting at my bum, he pushes me into the front of the café and points to a table seating an elderly couple. I frown at him and pout before grabbing a pen.

"Welcome to Karen's, what can I get you?"

The lunchtime rush ends eventually. The last customer finally leaves and I sit down heavily in one of the vacated seats, dropping my head to the table and letting out a groan. I hear someone sit down next to me and I roll my head on the table top, peeking up at them. Karen is sitting with her chin in her palm, staring at me with a smile.

"Tired?"

I nod my head into the table and grimace when my skin slides painfully across the top. "Yes. I'm tired and hungry and I think this whole 'pregnant' deal is making me way emotional because I kind of want to cry and laugh at the same time."

Karen smiles in understanding and pats my knee. "Just wait until the cravings hit."

I sit up quickly and fix her with a wide-eyed look. "Oh my God, Karen, I'm gonna get _fat!" _

Karen laughs at my face and shakes her head. "You won't get fat, you'll get pregnant. There's a difference, sweetie."

"No! I'm going to be fat and gross and no one will want to hang out with me. I'm gonna be called the cautionary whale! This is a disaster." I flop my head back onto the table, but then another thought hits me. "How am I gonna _cheer? _I'm the cheer captain!"

Brushing my hair back and squeezing my knee, Karen makes me look at her. "Brooke, honey, don't worry. It'll all work out."

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can Luke places his hands over my eyes and sings, "Guess who?"

The butterflies in my stomach outweigh the worry and dread and I find myself smiling. Reaching up and grabbing his hands, I lean my head back against his stomach. "Hi, Boyfriend."

"Hi, Pretty Girl." He leans down and kisses me softly. I blush a bit because Karen's still sitting not one foot from me, but she just pats my knee again and gets up.

"Are either of you hungry? I could fix something up."

Luke nods. "Yeah, can I have a grilled cheese, ma?"

I smile at the request and pat his cheek. He grins down at me and kisses my forehead. "I'll have the same, thanks Karen."

She nods and smiles before heading into the kitchen, glancing back at us occasionally. Luke takes her seat and grabs my hand, playing with my fingers. "So how did the talk with Nathan really go? I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

I kiss his knuckles. "It went well. You know how Nathan is. But he said he's here for us if we need him."

Luke nods and a small smile plays across his lips. "So, our little secret is slowly getting out, huh? That's how many people that know, now?"

I hold up my hand and count. "Well, there's Rachel, Haley, Nathan, your mum, and…oh yeah! Peyton's brother Derek." I wiggle my five fingers at him and smile in false enthusiasm.

Lucas grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah…about that…I'm really sorry." He squints at me and cocks his head. "I didn't mean to say it in front of him, but it just kinda happened…"

I shake my head and kiss him quickly. "It's fine. You were drunk. We all know I don't make the best decisions when drunk, either."

"Meh," he shrugs. "What's done is done, I guess."

"Yeah." I kiss him again, quickly getting lost in him. The opening door registers but I don't really pay it any mind until I feel someone standing uncomfortably close behind me.

"Brooke." I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I break away from Lucas and meet his eyes before turning slowly to face her. "Can we talk?"

I nod mutely and get up, Luke squeezing my hand in reassurance. I follow Peyton to a table by the window and sit down awkwardly. The tension is thick and stifling. I glance at her and see she's just as uncomfortable as me.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I ask, my voice quiet and a little timid. I kick myself for being like that with Peyton, of all people. Where was the feisty Brooke Davis that didn't take shit from anyone? Not here.

Peyton clears her throat and tugs at a loose thread on the strap of her bag. "Derek told me something…pretty interesting today," she tells me, looking up from the table and fixing me with those P. Sawyer eyes.

I swallow and nod, arranging my features into casually interested. "Oh, really?"

"Really." She hasn't stopped looking at me and I'm getting uncomfortable under her gaze. I squirm a bit in my chair and look out the window. "Brooke…"

I tear my gaze from the kid on the bicycle outside and meet her eyes. "Peyton."

She sighs and looks down at the table. A thin finger comes up and starts tracing the grain of the wood. I watch her quietly, waiting for the explosion that is Peyton Sawyer's anger. It doesn't come.

"Is it true?" she asks. She sounds defeated, almost.

I look up from her finger tracing the wood and purse my lips, considering how to answer that. I could play dumb and be all, 'is what true?' and risk getting her super pissed and mean, or I could just admit it all to her. But I don't really see why I have to be honest with her, seeing as we aren't friends and she's been a huge bitch. I go for the play dumb option.

"Is what true?"

I see her eyes flash at my words. There's the anger I was talking about. "You know _what, _Brooke. Derek told me what Lucas said. Is it true?"

Sighing, I look away for a minute, over my shoulder at Luke. He's sitting stiffly in his chair watching the exchange with anxious eyes. I send him a small smile and watch as he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and his fists unclenching. I turn back to Peyton and meet her eyes, trying not to remember all the times I had looked into those eyes and felt safe and wanted and home.

"I don't really think that's any of your business, Peyton." My voice is detached and I try to keep my face neutral. Peyton narrows her eyes at me, and I know she knows it's true. She knows me too well.

Peyton crosses her arms and glares across the table at me. I stare back, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "So that's _not _the reason you're suddenly back with Lucas after dumping him and claiming you no longer 'miss him,' right?"

I feel a spark of anger shoot up my spine. She gave up any right she had to be a part of my life and my problems when she told me she was in love with Lucas and that she had kissed him again. She doesn't get to sit there and insinuate in such a condescending tone. She doesn't get to pass judgment on me anymore. She doesn't get to act like the victim in this.

"You don't know what you're talking about." My voice is a low whisper. Peyton knows that voice. I see a flicker of regret in her eyes before she plows on.

"See, I think that that _is _it, Brooke. I think the only reason you guys are together is because Lucas feels guilty. He doesn't want to become another Dan Scott." She leans forward conspiratorially. "You're the Deb to his Dan, Brooke, and you know it."

Okay, I'm furious now. I can feel the anger building in the pit of my stomach and burning in my chest and sitting at the tip of my tongue, and Peyton knows she's hit a nerve. I narrow my eyes at her and set my jaw. "You don't know _what _you're talking about."

Peyton raises her hands in surrender and smiles. "Fine. Fine, I'm wrong and you two are in love." She pushes her chair back and slings her bag back over her shoulder. "You and I both know the truth, Brookie."

I don't respond, instead choosing to glare at her stupid skinny bitch face until she smirks and leaves, sending a wave at Luke. The door chimes as it closes and I remain seated, seething. How dare she insinuate such things? I hear Lucas get up and make his way over to me. What sucks the most about everything Peyton said is she knows me well enough to know exactly what to say to make me the insecure girl she knows me to be.

"Hey," Lucas greets, taking Peyton's seat. "You okay?"

I nod and grab his hand sitting on the table, squeezing it hard. "Yeah," I whisper raggedly. "I'm fine."

Karen brings us out our grilled cheeses and places them in front of us, patting Luke's cheek and smiling at me. "Enjoy," she urges, before skipping off to the back to continue being amazing.

I sigh and frown down at my sandwich. Suddenly I'm not very hungry. Lucas watches me with a mouthful of grilled cheese, squinting and figuring.

"What's on your mind, Pretty Girl?" he asks, taking a sip of his water. I ignore him, instead picking at my sandwich.

I don't want to talk about what Peyton said, because then Lucas will get all angry about being compared to Dan Scott. I don't want to cause any more unnecessary drama in the poor boy's life; he's already got enough to deal with, what with a heart condition and a baby on the way and a bastard of a father. I don't want to pile on to his problems. Besides, I know how much Lucas resents Dan, and how upset he already is with Peyton, despite their cute little talk. It's better to just not talk about it.

"Brooke?" I look up at my name and am met with Lucas' squint. "What's wrong?"

I sigh and eye his plate. He's left his sandwich half-eaten. "Your grilled cheese will get cold, Luke," I tell him, taking a sip of water and staring out the window. I hear Lucas' agitated sigh, but I ignore that too.

I know Peyton's wrong about us. I know she was just trying to get under my skin, and I know she's just upset because the boy she loves is in love with someone else. I know she was just trying to hurt me like she's hurt. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. She knows exactly what to say to make me doubt myself, and Lucas. It sucks when your best friend becomes your worst enemy.

After the dinner rush, Karen lets us go. I'm exhausted and still upset over what Peyton said, and Luke is brooding more than usual because of my avoidance tactics. I'm heading to my car when he catches my wrist and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his long arms around my shoulders.

"Don't shut me out, Brooke," he whispers into my hair. I feel my heart clench at the worry in his voice.

"I'm not, Luke," I assure him, pressing my lips to his neck. "I'm not."

I feel him sigh heavily, his breath saturating my cheek. "I really hope not, because I love you and I want to be there for you, but I know you Brooke Davis. You like to deal with the difficult things alone."

He knows me too well also, it seems. I bury my head into his shoulder and breath in his scent, trying to find the right words. "It's not that I'm trying to shut you out, it's more I'm trying to…protect you?" It sounds a little weird.

I can almost feel Luke squinting. "Protect me from what, Pretty Girl?"

"Everything? I don't know. I'm being stupid again." I slip my hands up the back of his shirt and press my palms to his skin. "Sorry."

Lucas shakes his head and presses a kiss to my temple. "You're not being stupid. Let me in, Brooke."

I nod and hug him a little tighter before pulling away. "I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna get back to Rachel's before I pass out."

"Or, you could come home with me?" He raises his eyebrows and smiles a half smile. "I missed you today."

"I was with you for pretty much all of it," I tell him with a smirk. He just pouts and brushes my hair from my face. "Fine, fine, have it your way." Luke grins and kisses me quickly before tugging me to his car.

"Thank you, Cheery," he whispers in my ear as he opens my door. His voice sends shivers down my spine.

Lucas' bed is probably the most comfortable bed in the whole world. I sigh and press myself deeper into the mattress, feeling perfectly content. Luke's arms are wrapped around me and my back is pressed against his front. We fit together like puzzle pieces and it makes my chest swell. I press my nose into his pillow and breathe deeply, the familiar smell filling my nose and calming my nerves from earlier.

"Goodnight, Brooke," he murmurs against my neck. I smile at the touch and pull his arms tighter around me.

"You know it's barely ten," I mutter back, enjoying the darkness of his room. I feel him nod behind me. "On a Saturday."

"Mhmm."

I shrug my shoulders. "Okay. Goodnight, Broody."

Monday comes way too soon. I groan as the alarm clock blares, reaching out and swatting at my bedside table. The noise doesn't stop and I groan louder, slamming my hand down on the table again.

"Jeez, Preggers, get a grip, wouldja?"

I harrumph and push my covers back, glaring at Rachel. She's sitting calmly on her bed, brushing her hair. "Where is that stupid clock?"

Rachel smirks and points to my dresser. "I moved it. I figure with your new-found fat girl status, you can use all the exercise you can get."

"You're a bitch."

"You're pregnant."

"Slut."

"Says the pregnant girl."

I scoff and throw my pillow at her. "Turn that alarm off please."

Rachel smirks and rolls off her bed, heading into the bathroom. "Nope," she calls over her shoulder. "You're gonna have to get up off your fat ass and do it yourself."

I groan and push myself out of bed, grabbing the alarm clock and throwing it on the floor. "I hate Monday."

Walking into school, I can't wait to see Lucas. I had to spend Sunday holed up in my room trying to finish an essay for History, so I didn't get to see him as much as I would've liked (24 hours a day). As I had been hoping, he's waiting for me at my locker. When he sees me he smiles and opens his arms, which I gladly fall into.

"Hey," he murmurs against my lips.

"Hi." I kiss him again and giggle as he bites my lip. "I missed you yesterday."

"I missed you last night."

I raise an eyebrow and smirk at him. "Oh really?"

He smirks back and kisses me. "Really."

I'm about to respond when someone slaps my ass. Hard. I squeal and turn around to find a typically smirking Rachel standing there. "Hey fattie."

I frown at the new nickname and Lucas wraps his arms around my waist. "Hi, Rachel," he intones, rolling his eyes.

"What do you want, ho?" I ask her, squeezing Luke's arm.

She smirks a little longer before shrugging and patting my cheek. "Just wanted to let you know, your ass looks huge in those jeans. Slut." She winks and skips away.

"Bitch," I mutter under my breath, while Lucas laughs in my ear.

"She's something else, huh?"

Turning in his arms and wrapping my own around his neck, I kiss his cheek. "If by something else you mean 'fantastic slut-faced bitch,' then yes. She certainly is _something else._"

"Oh, come on. She's just kidding. And for the record," he leans down conspiratorially, "your ass looks phenomenal in these jeans."

I laugh and raise an eyebrow. "Phenomenal, huh?"

He nods and adopts a serious expression. "Yes ma'am." He smiles and pulls out of the hug, wrapping his arm around my waist and taking my book bag. "Come on, beautiful, we've got a riveting Literature class to get to."

"Ugh. I didn't read the chapters again," I tell him, leaning into his side and pouting.

"That's okay, I've read the book before. I can give you the lowdown on the way."

I've gotta say, having a gorgeous guy mutter in your ear the plot of _'Catcher in the Rye' _is surprisingly hot. By the time we get to Lit class, I not only know all about Holden Caulfield and the beginning of his New York adventure, but I also have a new appreciation for literature. That is, only if Luke reads all the books to me while naked.

We get there just as the bell rings. I shoot Ms. Burns a dimpled smile and slide into my seat, Lucas taking the one two behind me and one row over. I can feel his eyes on me and I feel myself smiling again. Unfortunately, the resident emo-bitch is also in this class. And she sits right next to me, obviously. And right now, her big Peyton eyes are boring into the side of my face. I'm pretty sure they're gonna leave marks. I try to ignore her ostentatious staring and watch the teacher as she writes nonsense on the board.

A piece of paper flips onto my desk and I startle, my knee hitting the bottom of my desk. I grimace and mutter an apology to Ms. Burns before glancing around and grabbing the note.

'_We need to talk. Lunch, in the art room.'_

Well that's fun. A sneaky little note from an unknown sender luring me into an abandoned classroom at lunchtime. I frown and look around, meeting Peyton's eyes. She nods to the note then looks back at me and I feel my stomach swoop. Yet another unbelievably enjoyable confrontation with P. Sawyer; I can't wait.

I scribble back quickly and toss it onto her desk, staring straight ahead the whole time. I see her out of the corner of my eye open the note and scowl at my return message. Good.

I sigh and lean my chin in my hand, trying to make Ms. Burns voice sound like Lucas' so this whole class doesn't suck as much. It's kind of super difficult, because Ms. Burns is short with ginger hair and a corduroy dress and a nasally little voice. It may take a whole lot of concentration. I squint and then close my eyes, trying to hear Lucas.

A piece of paper hits my forearm. I scowl and look over at Peyton, knowing it came from her, but she's apparently engrossed in the lecture. I roll my eyes and open the paper. Just one word is there.

'_Please.'_

Damnit. I fiddle with the edges of the paper and sigh. As tired as I am with these futile conversations that just end up hurting, I know I'm going to end up going. And I know it's going to end up being Peyton piling on me while I sit there and try to hold in my tears and occasionally fire insults back at her, but I'm still gonna go. Because what if it's different? What if it's _my _P. Sawyer and not this new, bitter version of her? I can't pass that up.

I sigh again and scribble back, tossing it back to her and closing my eyes, blocking out the class. I hear Peyton exhale heavily and a piece of paper getting crumpled, so I know I can't back out now. She's read it; she's going to hold me to it. What did I just agree to?

The class ends with the ringing of the bell. Ms. Burns assigns more chapters of the book for homework, and I make a note to get Luke to read them to me—preferably without his clothes—before slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading to the door. Lucas meets me with a look of concern on his face.

"What was that whole thing with Peyton?"

Shrugging, I tuck my hands into my pockets. "She wants to talk. Again."

Lucas groans, "Why do you do this to yourself, Brooke? You don't owe her anything! She's the one at fault here, with the whole kissing me and telling you she loves me deal."

"I know, but…it's Peyton, Luke. It's my P. Sawyer. I have to." I shrug again and loop my arm around his, leaning into him. "Walk me to calculus?"

I swear, I'm gonna die in calculus one of these days. It will be tragic and bloody and ultimately unavoidable, because that class sucks serious balls. I never know what's going on, with all the numbers and letters jumbling together. And seriously? What are _letters _doing in math? Like come on, letters, get your shit together. You don't belong here. I groan and flop my head onto the desk, ignoring the dull throb the contact creates.

Rachel snickers and turns in her seat, patting the top of my head. "You're adorable because you're dumb," she tells me, ruffling my hair.

I lift my head from the desk and scowl at her. "Shut up. This stuff is impossible. Like what the hell? What is _this?" _I gesture to the worksheet in front of me and groan again. "It's gibberish. It's nonsense. It's stupid and I want to go home."

Rachel nods and pats my head condescendingly. "We can't all be hot _and _smart. And unfortunately, you're neither. Sorry." She shrugs and smirks, turning back around and scribbling away on her worksheet. I frown and glare at her back, picking up my pencil and doodling along the margin.

I feel eyes on me again, and I slowly look up. Rachel's looking at me again, and when my eyes meet hers she smirks. I'm beginning to loathe that stupid smirk of hers. "What?" I hiss.

Shrugging, Rachel taps her pencil against her chin. "What are you doing for lunch?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm…actually talking with Peyton at lunch."

Rachel raises her eyebrows at my words. "Really? You're such an idiot."

"Why? What did you want to do?"

"I figured we could skip out on the last few periods and go out, but if you've got better plans…" she trails off and raises her eyebrows skeptically.

I groan and prop my head up with my hand. "Rachel, I don't have _better plans, _I have earlier plans. Which, by the way, _suck._"

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Whatever, tubs. Another time, then." And with that she returns to her worksheet without another word.

She's confusing, Rachel Gattina. Sometimes she's the biggest bitch in town, mean and manipulative and conniving, and then other times she does stuff like that; she makes fun little plans to take your mind off of everything that sucks lately. She's nice and thoughtful and sweet. I get whiplash trying to keep track of all the changes in her personality. She's like a riddle wrapped in a mystery within a bitch.

"Sorry, Rache," I whisper to her back. I see her shrug her shoulders and wave me off, but I know she's not upset with me.

The bells rings (finally) and I hand in my doodled worksheet before racing out the door. It's lunch, and I have to go talk to Peyton. But before I do that, I really want to see Lucas to calm my nerves. I head to my locker and see him leaning against it, smiling at me. I smile back and kiss him soundly.

"I don't want to talk to Peyton," I tell him quietly, pouting.

Lucas grins and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. "I know, but you said you would, remember?"

"I know, but I want to be with you instead." I pout some more and laugh when Lucas pulls my lips up into a smile.

"You'll be fine, Pretty Girl. I'll be in the quad, okay?" He leans down and kisses me again before letting me go and sauntering off in that hot-boy way of his. I watch him go before sighing and straightening my shirt. Here we go.

The art rooms have always creeped me out. They smell weird and they're always lit funny, so there are shadows everywhere. And in seventh grade, my art teacher was terrifying and always rubbed my shoulders and called me 'Brookie.' So art rooms? Not my favourite place in the world. And Peyton knows that.

I push open the door and look around. Like I said, weirdly lit with a strange smell. It takes my eyes time to adjust to the dim light, so I don't notice Peyton right away. She's sitting in a seat by the window, her chin in her palm and a pencil in her hand. Her brows are furrowed and she's biting her lip.

"Hey," I break the silence and she jerks out of thought.

"Hey," she replies, brushing her hair from her eyes.

I walk a little further into the room, adjusting my shoulder strap and placing a hand over my stomach. I see her eyes flicker to my hand and I quickly tuck it into my pocket. "You wanted to talk?"

She's still staring at my stomach. I pull my cardigan tightly over my torso and cross my arms. She shakes her head and meets my challenging gaze. "Yeah. I did."

I roll my eyes at her attitude and gesture to her. "So talk, Peyton."

Peyton scowls and glares at me before looking down at her feet. I notice she looks nervous and unsure. That's a bit unexpected. "I wanted to…I dunno, apologise?"

I raise my eyebrows and fix her with a look. "For what? For kissing my boyfriend again, for making me feel like shit for the past few months, for taking away the only family I've ever known…which is it, Peyton?"

Peyton shifts nervously in her seat and tucks her wild hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes. She doesn't respond, so I continue.

"Come on, Peyton, you said you wanted to talk. So let's talk!" I step closer to her and shake my hair out of my eyes. "You say you want to apologise? Go ahead. I'm listening."

She sighs heavily and finally looks up. Her eyes are wet and red-rimmed. "Brooke," she starts, her lip quivering. I try not to change my expression to one of concern. It's really hard. "I'm sorry. For everything I said to you at Karen's, that wasn't fair." She shakes her head and swipes at her eyes, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. "I've…I've seen the way he looks at you. It's the way I always wished he'd look at me."

I feel my heart clench at the pain in her voice. "Peyton…" but she's not done.

"Please, Brooke, let me get this out," she pleads, clasping her hands tightly together. "I never…you were my best friend for ten years, and I threw that all away because I loved a boy that loved someone else. It was selfish and cruel and I'm sorry for how I hurt you." She lost the fight against gravity. Tears are flowing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin and I want so badly to wipe them away and tell her it's okay it's fine I forgive you, but something's stopping me.

"When we were in the library," she chokes, wiping hastily at her cheeks, "I was so scared. I thought I was going to die, and the only thing that kept me from completely freaking out was the fact that I knew you had gotten out. I love you, Brooke, and I'm sorry and I hope you can forgive all the awful things I said and did because none of it was true. I loved how you were always there, I loved that my dad called you his 'bonus daughter,' I loved that my mum would bake you a birthday cake. I loved that you wouldn't leave me alone after my mum died, and I loved that even though you were hurting too, you pushed it aside to help me. You're selfless and I'm sorry for taking advantage of that."

I try to be all badass and unemotional, but Peyton just relieved me of all that family stealing guilt I was feeling _and _she's crying and I could never deal with a crying Peyton. Re: flooded bathtub. So I uncross my arms and engulf her in a hug, tucking her head under my chin and rubbing her back.

"It's okay, P. Sawyer," I whisper, trying desperately to keep my voice from breaking.

Peyton shakes her head roughly and clutches at my cardigan, soaking the fabric. "No it's not, Brooke! I knew that when I told you I was in love with Lucas you'd put me in front of yourself, I knew you would and I did it anyway. I'm sorry, I'm a selfish bitch and I'm sorry."

I want to deny it, but a part of me knows that she's right. She may have said she just wanted to be honest with me, but we both knew it was more than that. So instead of muttering contradictories into her hair, I remain silent.

Peyton's sobs fill the creepy art room and I'm still trying to keep my tears at bay, but sooner or later I'm gonna lose and tears are gonna be everywhere. I take a deep shaky breath and blink hard, but the tears fall anyway and now we're both sobbing messes. Peyton's fingers are clutching at my shoulders and digging into my skin frantically and I hug her tighter, pressing my face into her hair.

Suddenly she pulls away and wipes her eyes with her sleeve. She doesn't look at me, instead grabbing her bag and standing up quickly. "I should go," she mutters, her voice still thick with tears. I stare at her, dumbfounded and still crying, and she meets my gaze.

"I'm sorry for everything, Brooke." Peyton's eyes are shimmering and red and she's fiddling maniacally with the strap of her bag. "I have to go; I told Derek I'd meet him for lunch."

I nod and wipe my eyes, placing a protective hand over my stomach. "I'll walk with you," I offer, sniffling.

Peyton's eyes dart down to my hand and back up to my face, and I see the curiosity in her eyes. She doesn't ask, though; instead she nods mutely and loops her arm through mine. My P. Sawyer always was bad at emotions, but I don't mind this time. I know she's still hurting about Lucas and about our falling out and her birth mum. The fact that she actually broke down and cried out her apologies is a big step for her.

"Where are you and Derek going for lunch?" I ask quietly, wiping my face on my sleeve.

Peyton sniffles and shrugs. "I dunno, probably somewhere fast and cheap."

"Sounds like Rachel," I mutter, and Peyton gives a watery chuckle. I smile at the sound and lean my head against her shoulder briefly. "I missed you."

Peyton nods and hugs my arm tightly. "I missed you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing now, P. Sawyer."

She nods and says, "Okay, sorry."

I roll my eyes and push open the doors, squinting against the sunlight. I quickly scan the quad for Lucas and spot him sitting with Nathan and Haley and Mouth. They're all laughing and he looks happy. I feel Peyton watching me watch him and I meet her gaze. Her eyes are kind of sad but she smiles at me anyway.

"He looks happy," she murmurs, looking past me to watch Lucas as he throws his head back and laughs. The sun makes his hair look golden.

"Yeah," I say quietly, watching Peyton. She purses her lips and looks back to me, a small smile adorning her lips.

"It's because of you," she tells me softly and I feel my lips spread into a smile.

"Thanks, P. Sawyer."

"Peyton!" A voice calls and we both turn to see who it is. Derek is jogging toward us with a smile on his face and his camera in his hands. He meets my gaze and his smile widens. "Hey."

I smile at him and wave, "Hey, Sommers."

Peyton hugs her brother and mutters a hello, shooting me a smile before heading to his car. "Come on, big brother. I'm hungry."

Derek laughs and waves her off. "One sec, Peyton." He turns to me and smiles crookedly. "How are you, Brooke Davis?"

I shrug and shade my eyes from the sun. "Y'know, so-so."

He nods knowingly and looks back at Peyton. She's stopped to talk to Theresa and Bevin. I think his eyes linger on her a little longer than strictly necessary, but I don't say anything. "I better go," he tells me, still staring at Peyton. "See you around, Brooke."

"See you," I reply and watch uneasily as he lifts his camera and snaps a few pictures of Peyton's back as she leans over to read something off Theresa's phone.

* * *

><p><em>dun dun DUNNNNN. spooky derek is certainly a creepy character.<br>i tried to explain peyton's reasoning and guilt, but i don't want to spend a lot of time trying to understand a character that is awfully flawed, and i figured she'd rambled enough in her explanation and apology._

_let me know what you think! next chapter is gonna be exciting (i hope who knows) stalker!derek anyone?_

_review prease._

_looooooooooooove JASPER! _


	6. Chapter 6

_hi team. here's chapter six of the good ol' funtimes story. if you read it, please drop me a line so i know how it's being received? THAAANKS._

* * *

><p><strong>Part 6.<strong>

Trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my belly, I watch Peyton and Derek get into his car and drive off. There's a little smile on her face and she gives me a small wave as they leave the parking lot. I wave back and watch until they turn down a street and I can't see his car anymore.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the uneasy feeling in my stomach is something to do with the whole baby a-brewin' in my belly. Maybe I'm just making crazy assumptions because I have trust issues. Who knows? I'm hoping I'm wrong, because if not, then I just saw Peyton's brother taking pictures of her ass.

Like I said, I've never had a big brother. The closest thing I've got is Nathan. And taking into account our history, if he was to be taking pictures of my ass it wouldn't exactly be stomach-clenching news. It would just be…Nathan. But this whole development makes me nervous. I know I don't have anything to base it off of, except stuff I see on TV, but I'm pretty sure that's some weird incestuous shit. Oprah would have a field day with this little situation.

Resting a protective hand over my belly, I sigh heavily and blow my fringe off my face. I join the gang at their table, kissing Lucas' temple and nudging Mouth's shoulder with mine. Nathan flicks a crisp at me and smirks.

"Ten points," he cheers, raising his hands in the air.

I frown and chuck the crisp back at him, laughing in victory when it slaps his forehead. "S my d, Scott."

He scowls and brushes off the crumbs and grease from his forehead. "Not even if you paid me. I have no idea where it's been."

Mouth laughs and Haley slaps Nathan's chest. "Don't be a jackass," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Lucas chuckles and wraps an arm around me, pulling me into him. Nathan shrugs and kisses her cheek.

"Sorry wife."

Haley's face breaks into a grin and she laces their fingers. "It's okay, husband."

Mouth reaches across the table and grabs Nathan's free hand, fluttering his eyelashes. "Yeah, it's okay, husband. I love you, forever and always."

Lucas and I burst out laughing while Nathan scowls and tugs his hand out of Mouth's grip. Haley laughs and rubs his arm, muttering who-knows-what into his ear.

"So, how did your talk with Peyton go?" Lucas whispers in my ear. I find my hand covering my stomach again and I glance over at Mouth before answering.

"It…went." I fiddle with the hem of his shirt. "She…well, she apologised. I definitely wasn't expecting that. I thought she was gonna yell at me again."

Lucas raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. "Huh," he wonders, furrowing his brow. "Well, it's about time, I say." He squeezes me and kisses my forehead. "So, you two are good?"

I frown against his lips, "I have no idea. It's all a bit vague. I mean, it's not like she's gonna suddenly get over the 'love' thing, and we're not gonna dive right into the kind of friendship we had before. But," I exhale, "I'm pretty sure we're done with the smack downs. Which is a relief, 'cause even though she's scrawny as hell, she's way strong. She'd totally kick my ass."

Luke nods and Haley looks over wonderingly. "Who would kick your ass?"

I shrug and pick up my juice box. "No one. It's done. My ass will remain un-kicked." I smile and suck on the straw, ignoring Haley's questioning looks. Nathan nods and winks and I know he knows Peyton could seriously lay down if we ever got into it.

Peyton and me. There's a whole other issue. We've been best friends for ten years. We've seen the best and the worst of each other. We've fought—physically and verbally—and we've cried and we've laughed and we've been. She was there when the fighting between my mum and dad got so bad it made me cry. I was there when her first crush gave a Valentine to Alice Rich in fourth grade. We've been each other's rocks for years, and now we're finally on the mend after months of nothing. I'm not sure how to feel about it, actually.

On the one hand, it's the best day ever. I mean, it's Peyton and me. Like I said, we've been through thick and thin. I was her first kiss, for God's sake. I miss her every day. She knows me inside and out, backward and forward, better than I know myself sometimes. But on the other hand, it's more drama and angst and potential pain. She broke my heart and she took advantage of my stupid habit I have of putting her feelings ahead of my own and she tried to put all the blame for the state of our friendship on me. She made me feel like an awful person because of something she did. What kind of friend would do that?

Another crisp hitting my nose breaks into my thoughts. I startle and look around, swatting at the air in front of my face. When I see the crisp lying on the table and Nathan smirking, I put two and two together and glare at him.

"You were drooling," he shrugs, popping a crisp into his mouth.

I glare some more and stick my tongue out at him. "I was not."

"You _were _pretty out of it," Mouth interjects, shrugging when I turn the glare onto him.

"I was not drooling. Lucas, tell them I wasn't drooling."

Lucas smiles and brushes my hair from my face. "You're very pretty."

I huff and turn away from him, propping my chin in my palm. "Whatever, Scott."

Lucas opens his mouth to reply, but the end-of-lunch bell interrupts. He smiles and reaches out a hand. "Come on, Pretty Girl."

I eye his hand and reluctantly take it, smiling privately at the perfect way they fit together. His grip tightens on my hand as I stand and he reaches over to grab my bag from my shoulder. Like I said, chivalry is hot. I kiss him soundly and smirk at the dopey look on his face before tugging him along behind me. "Snap out of it, Broody, we've got places to be."

He shakes his head and follows me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders instead. I smile up at him and lace my fingers through the hand dangling over my shoulder, forgetting for a moment my issues with Peyton and Derek's weird ass photos and instead just enjoying the feel of Luke's arms around me. It's a good feeling.

I meet Luke out by his car after school. He's leaning against the hood with his arms and legs crossed and his bag over one shoulder, squinting and brooding. Laughing softly at the familiarity and predictability of my Broody, I skip over to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Hi Boyfriend," I whisper into his neck, kissing it softly. I feel rather than hear his chuckle.

"Hey Girlfriend." His hands loop around my back and he smiles down at me, all ocean eyes and boyish grin. "How's your day?"

I shrug and purse my lips. "Y'know, so-so. If you kiss me it'll be better."

The car ride to the café is filled with the alarmingly depressing lyrics of Bright Eyes. I raise my eyebrows as a particularly suicidal line slinks out of the speakers in a raspy and broken voice and Luke laughs at my look. "It's a great song!"

I nod slowly. "It's also _extremely _depressing and dark and sad. Can we listen to something that doesn't make Peyton's art look cheery and bright?"

Lucas sighs and reaches for the radio, switching the dial to the Top 40 station. "Better?" he asks.

"Better," I reply, smiling as a poppy ballad fills the car. Luke rolls his eyes at my bobbing head.

"I hope our kid has better taste in music," he mutters. I gasp and smack his arm.

"How dare you! I'll have you know Lady Gaga is a brilliant musician!"

Rubbing his arm and fixing me with a dubious look, Luke says, "She wore a dress made of _meat. _She's insane, Brooke."

"No. She's progressive. And our kid will have fantastic taste in both music _and _fashion. And they'll be smart, too, but not in that annoying in-your-face way." A small smile curves my lips up as I think about 'our kid.' It's exciting and wonderful and scary.

Lucas is smiling too, and his eyes are warm and sparkly. "And they'll be boss at basketball, with a killer jump shot and some serious cross-over action."

"And they'll master the back handspring. And they'll be funny, too." I nod and gaze at him. "And they'll have your eyes."

Lucas nods, turning to face me as we pull up to a red light. "And your smile. Those dimples will be heart-stopping." I lace my fingers with his on the gear-stick. He grins down at them and I feel my heart flip. "A little girl with your smile and bravery."

"A little boy with your eyes and compassion."

Silence fills the car as we just sit and gaze and imagine our child growing in my belly. They're going to be amazing. They're going to be so loved and adored it'll be ridiculous. And even if she doesn't have my smile or he doesn't have Luke's eyes, I'll love them forever because they're my child and there's nothing they could ever do to make me turn my back on them. And it'll be the most wonderful feeling, knowing Lucas and I created something as magical as life.

The light turns green and our little fantasy is intruded by real life. I squeeze his fingers and look back out the window, a smile playing at my lips and my chest warm and fuzzy.

Karen greets us both with big hugs. She pats my cheek and kisses Luke's forehead, sitting us down in a booth and telling us to order anything. I smile and thank her and she waves me away, tuttering on about family. Luke shrugs and grins, kissing me softly and settling into the booth.

Karen's Café is one of my favourite places, I've decided. It's warm and cozy and always has a cup of hot chocolate ready. It feels more like a home to me than my own house ever did, and I find myself wishing I knew Karen way before. Maybe if I did, I wouldn't have messed up quite so much. Maybe I wouldn't have made such poor decisions, or rushed into so many 'relationships,' or had my heart broken quite so many times. I think I could've been someone great if I knew Karen before.

She comes back quickly with two grilled cheeses. Placing them down, she wipes her hands on her apron before glancing around at the café and sitting down next to Lucas. "So, Brooke, have you been to the doctor yet?"

I swallow my water quickly and shake my head. "Not yet. To be honest, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."

Karen nods knowingly. "It can be overwhelming, I know. First things first, we need to get you in to see a doctor, get a sonogram, get you started on your pre-natal vitamins, that sort of thing." She must've noticed my wide eyes and apprehensive expression, because she pats my hand and gives me a warm smile. "It's going to be okay, Brooke. It's just routine. You've seen _Juno, _right?"

"Y-yeah. But she gets made fun of. And she gives the baby away." I bite my lip and glance at Luke. He's watching his mum with a timid look on his face.

Karen smiles softly and nods, "Yes, but that's not what I'm referring to. I mean the whole process. We need to get a sonogram to make sure the baby's healthy and safe, and we need to see a doctor so we can discuss options for the delivery and the nine months leading up to it."

I nod slowly, processing. "Oh." Gazing at a spot behind Karen's right ear, something she says registers suddenly and I jerk my gaze to her face. "Wait, see if it's 'healthy'? Why wouldn't it be healthy? What do you mean?" A bubble of panic is forming in my throat.

Karen squeezes my hand. "Brooke, I didn't say your child isn't healthy. You have no reason to believe it won't be, either. It's just something you have to do, okay?"

Lucas nudges my foot and I look over at him. He looks just as scared and unsure as I feel, but he offers me a small smile. I feel my shoulders relax and I almost-smile back. "Okay. Okay." I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. "Okay."

Karen pats my hand and gets up slowly. "So we'll make an appointment for sometime this week. Alright?"

I nod again, my eyes still closed. I'm still taking deep breaths.

"Alright." Karen wanders away to help some customers, patting Luke's knee in reassurance as she goes.

"Wow," Luke mutters, clasping his hands tightly in front of him. "I didn't even think about that kind of thing."

"Me either. I was just thinking about how fat I'm going to get." I finally open my eyes and meet his. "There's a whole lot I didn't even consider."

"Do you think our baby is healthy?" Luke's voice is small and quiet. He seems terrified that the answer might be negative.

"I think our baby is going to be the healthiest baby Tree Hill has ever seen," I tell him, giving him a half-smile. "And the hottest. We're gonna have a hot baby."

He laughs a little and a genuine smile lights up his face. "Of course we are. Our baby will make Brad and Angelina's spawn look like monkeys."

I snort and shake my head. "I dunno, those kids are pretty cute."

"Pfft," Lucas scoffs. "Those kids have nothing on our masterpiece."

"Masterpiece?" I say, raising a brow. Luke shrugs and pops a fry into his mouth. "Yeah, okay. Our baby is hot shit."

Lucas laughs and stands up. "I'm gonna grab ketchup. Keep thinking of how awesome our kid will be while I'm gone, I wanna hear your ideas."

"Sure thing, Broody. Oh, our baby better not be as broody as you," I tell him, laughing at the offended look on his face.

I smile into my glass of water as I think of more amazing things our kid is going to do. Cure cancer, discover new planets, tame lions, win Grammys; our kid is going to do it all. And they'll look fabulous while doing it, too.

The clearing of a throat beside me grabs my attention. Mouth is standing there, looking uncomfortable. His hands are tucked into his pockets and his shoulders are hunched, and he's got a weird look on his face. "Hey, Brooke," he greets quietly.

"Hey, Mouth," I smile at him, motioning for him to sit down. He does so quietly, sitting on his hands and looking at me with a curious look on his face. "What's up?"

He shuffles and shrugs. "I uh…I heard you and Luke talking…" he glances at me and bites his lip. I feel my stomach swoop. "You're pregnant?"

I look down at my plate and count the grains of salt on a fry. I can still feel Mouth's eyes on me. "Yes," I whisper into my grilled cheese, fidgeting in my seat and picking at my thumbnail. I hear his soft gasp and know he's trying to find the right words to say.

"Wow," is all he can come up with. I chance a glance at him and am startled to see him with a small grin.

"Why…are you smiling?" I ask, cocking my head.

Mouth's smile grows at my expression and he shrugs again. "You and Luke will be great parents," he says matter-of-fact. I feel my chest swell at his words. Honestly, I had been worrying like crazy over the issue of parenting. My own had sucked serious balls, and I was super worried I'd end up just like them. What if I treated my kid like dirt and ignored them because it's all I knew? But I was afraid to voice that concern to Lucas or Karen or Rachel because I was afraid of their answers.

Mouth knew what I was worried about without me having to voice it. His words make me feel infinitely better and I can't help but smile widely. I get up and wrap my arms tightly around his neck, my eyes becoming dangerously wet. My voice is choked as I whisper a 'thank you' into his neck and try to control my breathing. He hugs me and rubs my back.

"And your baby will _definitely _be hotter than Brangelina's," he tells me with a smile. I give a watery chuckle and nod, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Hell yeah it will." I take a deep breath and swipe at my eyes. "Thanks."

Mouth shrugs again. "I'm here for you. Both of you."

Lucas appears at the table again with a look of concern. "Why are you crying, Brooke?" he asks me softly, placing the ketchup bottle on the table and pulling me into his arms.

I shake my head and cup his cheek. "I'm fine, Luke. Mouth just…he's awesome and knows what to say to make me way too happy." Luke furrows his brow and looks over at Mouth, who's watching the whole exchange with a knowing smile. "He knows," I tell him.

Luke nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on Mouth. "Alright," he says quietly. Mouth holds out his hand and Luke takes it, pulling him into one of those rivercourt guy hugs that are part handshake part actual love-hug.

"Congrats," Mouth mutters, and Lucas slaps him on the back.

"Thanks, man," he replies, nodding and placing a hand on his shoulders.

"I'll keep this a secret until you guys are ready to tell," Mouth says, looking between us.

"Thanks, Mouth." I hug him again. "Rachel knows, and Nathan and Haley too."

He nods and tucks his hands back into his pockets. "Cool. Well, I better go. I'm supposed to meet Rachel. See you guys later." He waves and leaves, the door tinkling at his departure.

Luke sighs heavily and sits down, pulling me onto his lap. Our sandwiches are long forgotten. "Huh."

I nod and kiss his cheek. "Another person who knows," I mutter, playing with his short hair. Lucas nods and presses his lips to my skin, exhaling against my neck.

"And a million more to go," he whispers, holding me closer.

"Are you sure you want to go over there?" Lucas asks me again, glancing over at me from his place behind the wheel. We're at the rivercourt, staring out at the river. I fix him with a look and nod slowly.

"Yes, Lucas, I'm sure. I just want to check on her and clear the air a bit." I look down at my lap and take a deep breath. If I were going to tell anyone about my uneasy Derek feelings, it'd be Luke. "Also…" I start, glancing back up at his profile.

"Also…?" he mimics, waiting for a continuation.

It's almost dark out. The sun is setting brilliantly across the water, like paint on a canvas. "I have a bad feeling about Derek," I tell him quickly, leaning my head against the window.

"What kind of bad feeling?" he asks slowly, measuring the words.

I tuck some hair behind my ear and spin the ring on my finger around. "I caught him taking pictures today. Of Peyton's ass."

Luke's eyebrows shoot up. He turns away from the sunset and looks at me fully. "What?"

I shrug and meet his eyes, the vivid sunset painting him red and orange and pink. "Today, after our talk in the art room, I walked with Peyton to meet Derek. He was there and when Peyton bent over to read something on Theresa's phone, Derek took a bunch of pictures." I bite my lip. "I thought it was weird."

Lucas squints and replies, "Yeah…that is weird. Definitely not big brother behaviour." Looking back out over the river, Lucas squints some more. "I'll look into it," he tells me, squeezing my thigh. "Come on, I can take you now."

We drive in relative silence to Peyton's house. Lucas is still squinting and thinking and figuring, and I'm staring out the window watching everything shoot past in a blur. I'm worried there's more behind Derek's ass photos than my bad feeling is letting on. What if it's not the first time? What if Derek has a whole stack of ass photos kicking around? The uneasy feeling in my belly twists and grows.

"Call me after," Luke tells me, kissing me softly after opening my door for me. I nod and pull him down for another kiss.

"Okay. Please look into this Derek-brother thing?" I use my puppy-dog eyes and Lucas rolls his eyes.

"Of course, Pretty Girl. I'll do it right away. Love you," he calls, climbing into the car and waving.

"Love you too," I reply quietly. I watch him drive away before I take a deep breath and climbing the steps to Peyton's door. Raising my fist, I hesitate before knocking. I try to get my hand to stop shaking, but it's not that easy. The wood is hard and unforgiving under my knuckles.

The door swings open and Peyton looks confused. "You knocked."

I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets and shuffle my feet. "I thought I should."

There's an unreadable expression on Peyton's face as she nods slowly and opens the door further, inviting me in. "What did you come here for?"

I smile sadly. "It's weird that I need a reason to come here." I meet her hazel gaze and look away, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence that follows my words. I clear my throat and look around her house. "I, um…I wanted to talk to you. More. About everything."

Peyton nods and crosses her arms. "What more is there to say?"

I roll my eyes at her antics. Typical Peyton with the avoiding and the ignoring. "Duh. P. Sawyer, we've got mountains of issues to talk about."

"Yeah, well…" she uncrosses her arms and heads upstairs. "Might as well be comfortable."

I follow her to her room and pause in the doorway. It hasn't changed, but it feels different somehow. Peyton notices my pause and turns to me with a questioning look.

"Sorry," I mutter, stepping into her room. She frowns and sits in her desk chair, grabbing her sketchpad and settling in. "So…" I start.

Peyton nods but doesn't look up from her paper. I sigh and step further into her room, my knees hitting the edge of her bed. "Peyton."

She looks up and I'm startled to see her eyes are watery. I reach a hand out to her, but drop it almost instantly. "I don't know what to say," she whispers raggedly. She's trying to control her breathing, but she's having a difficult time. "I messed up huge, and you're still here."

"Of course I am. You're my P. Sawyer." I sit down on her bed and tuck my legs underneath me. Peyton watches me as I absentmindedly place a hand over my belly.

"I was awful." She frowns and rubs her temple. "I was mean and spiteful and cruel, and I took advantage, and I ruined the one good relationship you've ever had, all because I was jealous."

"I know," I tell her softly. "But it's okay. I mean, we're best friends. We forgive each other when one of us messes up, right?"

Peyton meets my gaze and her eyes are rimmed with red. "Do you?"

I tilt my head and furrow my bow, confused. "Do I what?"

She takes a breath and fiddles with her pencil. "Forgive me?"

Exhaling heavily, I trace unknown patterns on her thick red comforter. "I was mad at you," I tell her. "For a long time, I was mad at you for what you said and what you did. I was mad and I was hurt and I was upset that you picked a boy—_my _boy—over me." Her breaths are heavy and loaded. I can hear them over the pounding in my ears. "I was also scared, because the day of the wedding I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I was scared but I had no one to run to because you were gone. So I was mad and scared and upset and hurt and all alone." I look up and my eyes fall onto Peyton's stoplight drawing. "You know how I hate to be alone."

I finally look at her and see the tears have spilled over and are tracing wet paths down her cheeks. "Those few weeks, where I didn't have you and I didn't have Lucas, those were some of the most difficult weeks of my life. I was alone and my whole life was changing. I didn't know what to do."

"I'm sorry," Peyton chokes out, her fingers twisting around the pencil in her hand. I nod at her words and she lets out a breath.

"You were so angry with me, with him. It wasn't fair." I shake my head and twist my hands together in my lap. "I don't think you had the right to be so angry. It made it so much harder."

"I know, Brooke, I'm so sorry." Peyton is still crying. It makes my throat tight. "I wish I could take it all back. I had no idea what was going on in your head or in your life; I didn't know about the pregnancy."

"I know. I didn't, either. I didn't believe it for a while. I took three pregnancy tests and I even went to the clinic to make sure." I inhale heavily and hold it. "I did it all alone, Peyton."

Peyton nods solemnly and drops her gaze to her sketchpad, her tears soaking the paper. "I'm sorry," she whispers again. I'm tired of hearing that.

"If we're going to be friends again, we're gonna have to get something straight." Peyton looks up, intent. "No boy can be more important than us. I don't care if it's Johnny fucking Depp banging down your door; you will put me ahead of some guy, and I'll do the same for you."

Peyton nods and wipes her face on her sleeve, sniffling. "Okay," she agrees, her voice still thick with tears. "Hoes over bros." She holds out her fist to pound and I smile at the gesture before bumping my knuckles with hers.

"Hoes over bros," I repeat, pulling her bony frame into a hug. She whispers more apologies into my neck and I sigh, running my hand over her wild curls. "The only way a guy will ever take priority over you is if this little twerp in my belly is a boy," I mutter, and smile when I hear a watery chuckle.

"I can't believe you're having a baby," she wonders, pulling back and placing a hand on my belly. She looks up at me, her eyes wide in marvel. "Who would've thought, huh?"

"Please, with the way I used to be, it's a wonder it hasn't happened yet." I smirk and shake my head and Peyton laughs.

"True," she agrees, laughing as I swat at her. "So…you're keeping it?"

I place both my hands over my stomach and sigh. "Yeah."

"Cool."

I lie back in her bed and stare up at her ceiling, my hands still covering my belly. Peyton copies me and lies next to me. I can feel her warmth against my side. "How are things with Brother Derek?" I ask her innocently.

She shrugs a shoulder and keeps her eyes on the ceiling. "Okay."

"Hmm," I hum, drumming my fingers against my abdomen. "Have you noticed anything…off about him?"

Peyton turns her head to stare at my profile. I ignore her and keep my eyes on the ceiling. "What do you mean?" she asks slowly.

I shrug. "Y'know, anything weird or strange or odd."

"Brooke."

Peyton knows I want to say something. She knows me too well. But I don't want to offend her or make her think I think her brother's a pervy freak. Even though I'm pretty sure he might be, if his ass photos are anything to go by. I sigh and finally look at her. "He was taking pictures of your ass today," I tell her in one breath. "And I'm no expert on big brothers, but even I know that's not okay."

She stares at me. She doesn't say a word, she just stares. I can't quite figure what she's thinking; her eyes are hard to read right now. Peyton's brow is furrowed and she's biting her lip, and she seems to be seriously considering what I've told her. I reach a finger out and smooth the wrinkle in between her eyes.

"You _saw _him take the pictures of my ass?" she asks quietly. There's a small tremor in her voice, and I see a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"When you bent over to see something Theresa was showing you," I swallow, looping my pinky through hers, "He raised his camera and snapped a bunch of photos. Of your general ass area." I try for a smile. "He sure does take a lot of photos."

Peyton nods mutely, her lip still in between her teeth. I tug on her pinky and wrinkle my brow. "You don't seem too surprised…I thought you'd be jumping down my throat about this," I observe.

"I…at the party, at Rachel's, Haley said something to me." Peyton laces the rest of her fingers through mine and I squeeze them gently. "She's the only one of us who's ever had a big brother, and she—well, she said Derek seemed a little too affectionate?"

I exhale slowly, letting the air breeze past my lips. "Yeah…I noticed that too."

Peyton raises her eyebrows and lets out a short laugh. "Well if _you _think someone is being too affectionate, you know something's up." Her forehead crumples and she begins worrying her lip again.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Peyt. Just…something to be aware of?" I shrug and watch as she nods silently and turns her eyes back to the ceiling. "Maybe he's just really excited to have his long-lost sister with him."

She nods again, slowly. "Maybe," she whispers, but I can hear the doubt and fear in her voice. "But, what if you guys are right, and he _is _taking pictures of my ass and being too touchy-feely for a regular brother?"

I shrug, "Then we'll kick his ass, obviously." Peyton smiles and chuckles, turning to face me again.

"Obviously," she repeats, rolling her eyes.

Brushing a curly strand from her forehead, I look at her. "Seriously, though, P. Sawyer, if you get wigged out or anything, call me or Lucas or Nathan or something, and we'll be here so fast that pervy Brother Derek won't know what hit him, okay?"

Peyton breathes out a shuddery breath and nods. "Alright."

"Cool. Now, let's get some cool tunes going and have a dance party." I bounce off the bed and head to her record collection. "Where do you keep the not-depressing music?"

Laughing, Peyton comes to stand next to me. "Well, it depends. What exactly do you want to listen to?"

I give her a 'duh' look and reply, "Dance music. Something _fun! _Y'know, that thing some people have occasionally? Something upbeat and exciting!"

She rolls her eyes and reaches across me for a record. "Can't go wrong with Cheap Trick," she tells me, pulling the record from the shelf and giving me a wink. She's about to put it on when a knock at the door stops her. She glances at me with a weird look and I shrug back at her. "Huh," she mutters.

We head down the stairs together, both wondering who could be knocking at the Sawyer's house. No one ever knocks in Tree Hill. Peyton reaches the door first, peering out the window to see the front porch. Her eyes widen and she turns to me with a panicked look.

"It's Derek," she whispers. I nod and take out my phone, dialing Lucas' familiar number and motioning for her to open the door. Obviously he knows we're there by now.

"Hello?"

"Hey Luke, it's me. I'm just letting you know that I'm at Peyton's and Derek's here! So I'll see you later, okay?" I glance at Peyton and give her a small smile as she pulls open the door and greets Derek.

"Hey, Brooke," he greets me with his crooked grin. His stupid camera is still around his neck.

I nod in acknowledgement and glance again at Peyton. She looks nervous.

"Wait, what? Brooke, no, get out of there," Luke urges, his voice hurried.

"Yeah, well, we're just gonna hang out, maybe watch a movie or something. Peyton and I have a cheerleading thing to do." I shrug at Peyton and wave a little at Derek. He's watching me with a calculating look on his face. "Oh, Luke, did you do that thing I asked you to earlier?"

"Yes, Brooke, I'm at the police station right now, I told them about your bad feeling and they went with it. And they told me they…they told me they brought him in." Luke's voice is slowly becoming panicked. I feel my stomach swoop at his words.

"Oh, really?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I chance a glance at Derek and he's smirking. "That's so weird, because he's right here, with me and Peyton." He cocks his head and fixes me with a look. I ignore him.

"Brooke, get out of there. That guy isn't who he says he is," Lucas tells me, the concern evident in his tone. "I'm looking at Derek Sommers right now."

I nod curtly and widen my eyes at Peyton. Derek's smirk grows. "Okay. I love you, Luke." I flip the phone closed and grab Peyton's hand. "We had that cheerleading thing to do, didn't we, Peyton?"

Peyton grips my fingers tightly and nods, her curls bouncing. "Yep, yeah we did. Sorry Derek, right now just isn't the best time." She gives him an apologetic look and Derek smiles. It looks a lot more sinister now.

"Oh, come on, Peyton. I'm sure we could find something fun to do," he says, stepping closer to us and eyeing Peyton. "I mean, if you don't want to hang out with me, you could've just said so."

"That's not it, Derek, really," Peyton urges, shuffling closer to me. "It's just, this cheerleading thing is important, and we've been putting it off for a while."

"Yeah, it's kind of a deadline," I add, shrugging. "So, I guess we'll see you later, huh?"

Derek shakes his head and steps closer to us, his eyes on Peyton. "Nope," he smirks. "I actually have something I want to show Peyton. It's something very special."

I see Peyton's throat bob as she swallows heavily and Derek's eyes follow the movement, the irises darkening. My stomach flips and I take a half step in front of Peyton. "Sorry Derek, today just really isn't a good day for that."

He finally tears his eyes from Peyton and looks at me. His eyes are dark and the usually charming crooked smile is now twisted into a sneer. "This really isn't concerning you, Brooke Davis," he tells me, his voice deep and threatening. "I'd say it's about time you went home, don't you?"

I open my mouth to reply, but before I can he's driven his fist into my temple and I'm on the ground, dizzy and disoriented. I hear a muffled cry and scuffling feet before another thump and a distorted crack, and then the sound of heavy footsteps heading up the stairs. I try to focus my eyes, but he hit me really hard and everything is fuzzy. I rub at them and push myself up onto my knees, steadying myself on the banister. Glancing around, I notice Peyton is gone. So is Derek. The door is locked and there are a few drops of blood on the hardwood floors.

I hear a stifled scream and my heart beats heavily against my chest as I realise it's Peyton's scream. I push myself up, ignoring the throbbing in my skull, and make my unsteady way up the stairs, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I go. I hit redial and hold the device to my ear, trying to keep my balance. Luke picks up on the third ring.

"Brooke?"

"Hi," I greet him, my voice slow. "You need to come here. We need help, Luke, please co—"

Derek is suddenly there on the stairs, his twisted smirk and darkened eyes filling my blurry vision. He swats the phone out of my hand and smiles in satisfaction as it cracks and breaks in two. My stomach swoops unpleasantly as I note the gleam in his eye, and too late I realise he's swinging again. His fist connects with my jaw and I spin into the banister, barely managing to hold on as I lean dangerously over the rail. My head is spinning and my jaw aches and Derek's not done. He pulls me back by the throat, his large hands wrapping menacingly around my neck, and pulls back his fist. White cracks across my vision as he hits me again, and I can feel my eyebrow split as hot blood trickles down my cheek.

"Brooke!"

I open my eyes and see Peyton standing at the top of the stairs, her shirt ripped and her nose bloody. Derek turns to the voice and I take my chance, jabbing my finger into his right eye. He yells and whips his elbow back, cracking me in the cheek hard enough to make me see stars. I stumble back and barely catch myself on the banister before he's turning and running up the stairs, back to Peyton.

Blood is dripping down my face and my head is spinning. My stomach lurches uncomfortably and I struggle to pull myself up, leaning heavily on the banister as I force my feet to move. Peyton's alone in her room with this basket case. A shrill scream permeates my aching ears and I fight the urge to vomit as my head swims sickeningly. The stairs have never seemed so long, and finally finally I reach the top. Peyton's still shouting, and I can hear Derek grunting and yelling back.

The door isn't locked. Thank god, 'cause I don't think I could've knocked it down. I grab the vase from the table in the hall before turning the knob and steadying myself against the doorframe. Derek doesn't notice the intrusion: he's so wrapped up in Peyton. He's ripped her shirt clear off and her belt is undone. His long fingers are working furiously to get her trousers undone and Peyton's struggling weakly against him, thumping her fists against his hard chest and kicking her feet. He doesn't seem to notice.

I lift the vase and bring it down hard on his head, wincing as the shards slice into my palms. Derek grunts and whips his head around, fixing me with a lethal glare.

"I thought I told you it was about time you went home, Brooke Davis," he sneers, spittle flying from his mouth. I'm proud of the blood trickling down his chin. My P. Sawyer is scrappy.

I shrug and take an involuntary step back, kicking myself for the action when Derek notices and smirks. "I didn't get the hint, sorry."

He nods and steps closer to me. I look past him to Peyton lying on the bed. Her head is lolling against the comforter and her whimpers are weak. "You had your chance," he says darkly, before lunging at me and wrapping his hands tightly around my upper arms. His fingers dig mercilessly into my skin and I whimper. His twisted grin widens at the sound.

I lift my knee quickly and drive it into his crotch, filling with satisfaction when his face contorts in pain. The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because he wraps his fingers around my throat and presses me against the wall. My feet dangle and I struggle to breathe.

"You stupid little bitch," he spits, grimacing in pain. "You goddamned whore, you'll never see your precious little baby be born."

My fingers claw at his hands around my throat. I try to choke out a retort, but black spots are filling my vision and I can't form the words. I struggle against him and distantly hear a heavy crash and shouts, but I can't really register anything except for the rough hands around my neck and the blurring edges of vision. Blood still drips down my face and I can taste it in my mouth, coating my tongue and filling my raw throat. A frenzied cry and a blur of bodies and suddenly everything is black.

* * *

><p><em>ruh roh. <em>

_soooo, whaddya think? hit, miss, waste of time? let me know team._

_also, thanks to all the reviewers, you make me smile a lot._

_next chapter: psycho!derek attack aftermath, karen being boss, rachel being rachel, sex of the baby! aww yeeeee. boy or girl? what do you guys think?_

_looooooooooooove Jasper._


	7. Chapter 7

_this chapter was really frustrating to write. I don't know why. it's also longer than usual (22 pages brap!) because everything was so dumb and wasn't fitting into regular-sized chapters. but maybe that's a good thing? all you story alert pals, please let me know what you think!_

_read on, readers._

* * *

><p><strong>Part 7.<strong>

My eyelids feel exceptionally heavy. There's a coppery taste in my mouth and my throat burns, but none of that is comparable to the thundering ache in my skull. It feels like an electric shock pulsating heavily in the back of my head, spreading the pain all over my head and settling nicely behind my eyes. I groan and try to find a way to stop the shocks, but opening my eyes isn't happening. A hand squeezing my own startles me and I peek one eye open, finding I can only open it about halfway.

"Hey, Pretty Girl," Luke smiles shakily. I think I can see tears in his eyes because they're sparkling so much. I open my mouth and grimace as my lips pull apart dryly. I flick my tongue out to wet them but it's just as dry. Luke notices my discomfort and reaches to my bedside to grab me a glass of water. "Here," he murmurs, directing my lips to the straw.

The water feels like heaven as it coats my tongue and throat. The burning dulls and I drink greedily, emptying the cup. Luke's lips twitch and I meet his ocean eyes.

"Thanks," I croak. My voice is raspier than usual, gravelly and low. I notice Luke flinches slightly at the sound and I become self-conscious, looking away quickly and examining the IV in my arm.

"How're you feeling?" he asks softly, pulling my attention back to him.

I hesitate in answering because of his flinch. I must look and sound awful. "Y'know, the usual," I shrug, poking at the bandaging around my palms. It stings.

Lucas wraps his fingers around my hand and tucks it into his. "Stop prodding, ya goof," he smiles, gently stroking the back of the bandage. "You scared me."

I nod, my eyes staying on his hand covering mine. He brushes my hair back behind my ear and tilts my chin to meet his eyes. I was right; there are tears in his eyes. I'm left wondering why before my stomach suddenly clenches and I gasp, sending myself into a coughing fit. "T-the baby?" I choke out, widening my eyes as far as the bruising allows. It hurts.

Lucas strokes my cheek and rests his forehead against mine. "The baby is fine, Brooke." He sounds just as relieved as I feel. I let out a heavy breath and close my eyes, rubbing his nose with mine.

"What happened?" Lucas takes a deep breath and I peek at him. His forehead is crinkled and he's worrying his bottom lip. "Luke…"

"You were attacked." His eyes are closed.

I nod slowly against him. "I know. But what happened? Is Peyton okay? Where's Derek?" I have to stop and take a breath, wincing as my throat catches fire again. Lucas feels my wince and reaches for the water jug.

"Peyton's fine; she's in better shape than you," he helps me with the straw again. "Real Derek is with Peyton right now, at her house. Pretend Derek…" he sounds hesitant and I feel my pulse quicken.

"Is he in jail?" I ask quietly, picturing his large hands around my throat and against Peyton's skin.

Lucas shakes his head and rubs his eyes roughly. "No. Derek and I…we pushed him out the second floor window, and when the police showed up he was gone."

My stomach swoops unpleasantly and I try to blink back tears. My pulse is thrumming in my ears. "He's—they didn't catch him?"

"I'm sorry, Brooke," Lucas sounds so upset and broken. I shake my head, trying to ignore the shocks of pain the movement creates, and look pleadingly at him.

"How…Lucas," I whisper, unable to even form real sentences. He squeezes my fingers gently and drops his head. A tear leaks through his squinched-up eyelids. It perches delicately on his bottom lashes before dripping down his cheek, creating a wet streak across his skin. It glistens under the fluorescent hospital lights.

"I'm sorry," he says again. He meets my panicked gaze and his ocean eyes are swirling. "I'm so sorry. I promised you I'd save you and I never do."

My heart tightens at his wrecked tone. I lightly trace the shape of his lips, ignoring the twinges of pain in my skull. "It's okay, Lucas," I sigh, blinking back tears, "You can't save everybody."

"But I'm supposed to save you," he urges, his voice cracking on the last word. "I'm supposed to save you."

"You got there in time, Lucas," I tell him, trailing my finger down his jaw line. A sudden thought hits me and I jerk my gaze to his, the movement making my head throb. "Didn't you?"

He blinks slowly before realising what I mean. "Yeah, yeah we did," he presses the heel of his hand into his eyes. "We got there just as you passed out."

"Oh." My finger glides over his Adam's apple and I feel it bob as he swallows heavily.

"I was so scared," Luke whispers, catching my finger in his hand and pressing his lips to it. "You were just…lying there, with blood everywhere," he takes a shuddery breath, exhaling into his hand and my finger still pressed to his mouth. "I was so scared."

"Sorry," I murmur, "But I'm fine now, see?"

Lucas' eyes appraise me and a crinkle forms between his eyes. "Fine?" he whispers thickly.

I grimace and look down at the bandages on my hands and the hand-shaped bruises on my arms. "Well…not _fine _fine, but you know what I mean."

Nodding slowly, Lucas meets my eyes. "I know what you mean." He presses his lips gently against my forehead and sighs before pulling back. "I should tell the doctors you're awake."

I watch him leave the room with a worried nagging in my stomach. I'm scared that Pretend Derek is going to come back and finish what he started, and here I am confined to a hospital bed with a gross face and useless hands. I don't even think I could stand up without either vomiting or bailing. And judging by the way my throat is burning, screaming for help is definitely not an option.

A clanking in the hallway makes my pulse race and I pull the blankets tighter around me, holding my breath. With my heart thrumming in my ears, I can't do anything but wait anxiously. A food cart passes and a kind-looking nurse looks in with a smile. I exhale heavily and frown, trying to calm my thudding heart. Before I can even begin to get it back to normal, a tall man with graying hair and a white coat steps into my room, Lucas and Karen not far behind.

"Hello, Ms Davis. I'm Doctor Kensington," he offers me a small smile, but I don't return it. "You got pretty banged up, huh?" I shrug in response. He nods in understanding and places a hand at the foot of my bed. "Well, do you want good news or bad news first?"

My eyebrows furrow painfully as I consider. "The bad news first."

Dr. Kensington nods again and straightens his collar. "Bad news is you can't leave just yet. We're a bit worried about your head; you've got a pretty nasty concussion, and the swelling in your brain has yet to go down." My eyebrows rise substantially at this and Dr Kensington smiles briefly.

"My _brain _is swollen?" I ask with a grimace.

"After being knocked around so viciously and banging against your skull, your brain has swelled slightly. It's nothing too serious, Ms Davis; a routine concussion."

"Call me Brooke," I tell him, coughing slightly. Lucas passes me the water again and I smile gratefully.

"Okay," Dr Kensington concedes. "Brooke, it's nothing for you to worry about. We'd just like to keep you for another night for observation."

My forehead crinkles. "_Another_ night? How…how long have I been out?"

Karen pats my shoulder and answers me before Dr Kensington can. "Just one night, sweetie. You haven't missed much."

I nod slowly, trying to comprehend the fact that I missed a whole butt-load of hours, and Dr Kensington keeps talking.

"So, that's the bad news. Now the good news!" he claps enthusiastically and I flinch at the noise. "Sorry, Brooke," he apologises with a wince. "Anyway, good news is your baby is fine. Luckily, the man who attacked you didn't aim for your belly; otherwise this could be a completely different conversation. You did lose consciousness from lack of oxygen, and though this does carry the risk of affecting the baby, you seem to be lucky. Your baby is basically untouched."

I sigh a huge sigh of relief and Lucas and Karen smile at me. I know Lucas had told me already that the baby is fine, but I guess I didn't fully believe it until a real doctor told me so. "So…so we're all fine? Me and Peyton and baby, we're fine?"

Dr Kensington nods, "Yes, for the most part. You did sustain some injuries, though, Brooke." He glances at his clipboard. "You have a cracked cheek, a concussion, a bruised trachea, extensive contusions on your face, head and arms, and stitches on both your palms and your eyebrow. Like I said, you got pretty banged up."

I reach a bandaged hand up to feel my 'extensive contusions' and wince when I feel the swelling. Luke grabs my hand and pulls it from my face, tucking it into his again and kissing the top of my head.

"You're beautiful," he whispers into my hair. I don't believe him, but I don't say anything.

"So I can go home tomorrow?" I ask Dr Kensington. He nods before glancing back at his clipboard.

"You're free to go, as soon as your parents are here to sign off at time of discharge. We can't just let you go without parental consent."

My shoulders droop and I drop my head, picking at the blanket. "They're not here," I tell him quietly. Lucas gently squeezes my fingers.

"I'm sorry?" Dr Kensington leans in, peering at me from underneath his thick eyebrows.

I lift my gaze from my lap. "My parents don't live here," I tell him again, louder this time. He raises his eyebrows in surprise before perusing his clipboard again.

"You don't live with your parents?" he asks in disbelief. "But, it says here you're seventeen, Brooke."

I nod and sigh, scratching at my temple. "I know how old I am, Dr Kensington. My parents live in California."

"I'll call them," Karen jumps in, resting a hand on my leg. "They'll be here in time for Brooke to get out of here."

I look dubiously at Karen and she gives me a hopeful smile. I think it's highly unlikely my parents leave their cushy California beach house, trek it back to Tree Hill, and take care of their only daughter as she recovers from a vicious and unwarranted attack. Karen is way too optimistic.

"All right, wonderful," Dr Kensington smiles, slipping his pen into his chest pocket and tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I'll leave you three to get caught up."

"I don't think my parents are going to come all the way out here to sign some hospital papers," I tell Karen. I try to keep the sadness from seeping into my voice, but I'm pretty sure her and Luke catch it anyway.

"I can't see a mother _not _rushing to her child's side in their time of need, Brooke," Karen assures me, rubbing my shin. "They'll come. I'll go call them now."

I watch her go with a doubtful look on my face. Lucas sits on the side of my bed and plays with the ends of my hair.

"Come on, Brooke, I'm sure they'll come." He has a hopeful little grin on his face.

"When have they ever?" I sigh, lacing my fingers through his and ignoring the stinging from my palm. Lucas sighs too and kisses my forehead.

"Maybe it's different this time, who knows?"

I glance out the window to my right, with a direct view of the other wing of the hospital. "Maybe," I allow, but I don't really believe it.

Nathan and Haley come by. Even though they try to hide it, I know they're affected by the way I look. Luke won't let me look in a mirror or anything, and he took my spoon away when he caught me trying to spy my reflection, so now I can't even eat my jell-o.

Everyone keeps asking how I feel. I think that's a dumb question, because one look at me pretty much sums it up nicely. But I like the company and I don't want to be alone and bored and scared in this big hospital, so I smile and shrug and answer with, "fine," or, "tired." They nod in understanding and pat my shoulder or stroke my cheek.

"I want to eat my jell-o, Lucas," I say through gritted teeth. He's still holding my spoon hostage. I got red jell-o and I really want it.

"I'll feed you," he offers, reaching for my jell-o with a smirk. I swat at his hand and scowl, crossing my arms.

"Give me my spoon, Lucas."

He meets my glare with a defiant smirk and shakes his head. "Either I feed you or you sit there quietly with no jell-o."

"You're enjoying this way too much," I mutter, pretending to give up. Hopefully he'll skooch closer and I can somehow sneak the spoon away.

"You guys are like children," Haley laughs from her spot on Nathan's lap. I stick my tongue out at her and Lucas makes a face. She raises her eyebrows, "I stand corrected."

Nathan smirks and kisses her shoulder. "So, Brooke, you're out of here by tomorrow?"

I quit my pouting to answer, "Yep, Dr Kensington said I only have to stay for observation one more night, then my parents sign some forms and I'm free to live la vida loca."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "Your parents?"

"Yeah," I confirm with a short nod. Little shocks of pain shoot through my head again. "They're in California still, but Karen said she called and talked to them."

"And they're coming out here?" Nathan asks, wrapping his arms more tightly around Haley.

"Apparently," I shrug, returning my gaze back to Lucas. Sticking my bottom lip out, I try to pout. I don't think it has the same effect with all my 'extensive contusions,' but I try anyway. Lucas shakes his head.

"They'll be here," he assures me, waving the spoon in front of me.

"So…" I begin, giving Luke one last glare, "have you guys talked to Peyton?" She hasn't come in to visit me yet. Luke told me her and her Real Brother were having some 'family time,' but I figure she's had enough of that. I just got choked out.

Nathan and Haley nod together. "Yeah, we saw her this morning. Her actual brother is still here. I think they're just getting to know each other and getting used to the whole idea of siblings. He's a marine!" Haley explains, her voice rising as she announces his occupation.

"Oh, cool," I say, biting my lip. I want to meet him. "Did she say if she was going to stop by or anything?"

Nathan shakes his head, "No, but she asked how you were. We told her you were Brooke."

"Good answer," I smirk, rolling my eyes. "I just…I really wanna meet Real Derek." Lucas nods.

"He seemed kinda cool. He's—well, he's a marine," as if this explains him to a T.

"I heard."

"Hey, bitch!" Rachel calls from the doorway, a bright bouquet of flowers blocking her smirk.

Haley groans but Lucas laughs at her greeting and stands up to let her sit. "Hey, Rachel," he says, taking the flowers and placing them on my bedside.

"Hey, Hot Stuff. Lookin' fine." She winks at Luke and touches his arm. "So, how's my favourite fatty?"

I moan at the nickname and answer with a flick to her thigh. "I'm sickly, you can't make fun of me."

Rachel snorts, "Doesn't give you a free pass, honey." She reaches for my jell-o and peels the covering off. "Like you really need this," she smirks.

"No!" I cry, reaching for my dessert. She holds it out of my grasp and laughs at my face. "Rachel, I've been looking forward to hospital jell-o since I woke up! Please _please _don't eat it!"

Nathan laughs at my desperate plea and Luke just smiles at my pout. Rachel holds the jell-o up to her mouth, taunting me while she considers. "If I give in and give you this treat, you'll only hate me for it when you can't fit into your prom dress," she tells me.

I shake my head furiously and wince when my head throbs painfully. Holding a hand up in a futile attempt to stop the pain, I try pleading again, "Rachel, I _really _want that jell-o. Please don't revert back to Fat Rachel, _please_."

Lucas notices my pain and kneels down next to my hospital bed. "Are you okay?" he murmurs, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I meet his concerned eyes and pout. "I want my jell-o," I tell him in a childish voice. His eyes soften and he nods, standing and facing Rachel.

"Give her the jell-o, Gattina," he demands. Rachel smirks and hands it over.

"Talk to me like that, Scott, and I'll do anything you want," she winks, flicking her hair back. Lucas rolls his eyes and hands me my jell-o and the spoon.

"Keep it in your pants, Rachel," Haley snorts from across the room. Nathan rubs her arm reassuringly and she sinks into him again.

"Sound advice, Tutor Bitch," Rachel remarks, sending a fake smile her way. I roll my eyes at the two and dig into my jell-o, moaning as I take the first spoonful. "Maybe Davis should take it, huh?"

"Go away," I mumble around the jell-o. It's so frigging good. I think it tastes better because I was deprived and taunted and made to want it way more than necessary, but I'm not complaining. Anymore.

"Wow, I'm missing the party," comments a voice from the doorway. I look up from my jell-o to see my missing P. Sawyer standing next to a young black guy in sweats.

"P. Sawyer!" I exclaim, jell-o hanging from my lip. Luke smirks and kisses it off.

"Gross," Rachel mutters, covering her eyes.

Peyton smiles at me and tugs Real Derek into the room. He seems…stoic. "Hey, B. Davis," she greets softly, sitting on the side of my bed. She strokes my cheek and pushes my hair back, laughing as I shovel more jell-o into my mouth. "How do you feel?"

See what I mean? That stupid question is everywhere. I shrug and scoop more jell-o into my mouth. "I'm okay," I tell her, licking the remnants from my spoon. "I get jell-o." I look more closely at her and notice the lines around her eyes and the droop to her lips. "How are you?"

She sighs and drops her gaze, fiddling with my IV. I flinch and swat her hand gently. "Sorry," she mumbles, then, "I've been better."

Of course she has. I know _I _have been, too. Any time my face _wasn't _gross, swollen, and bruised counts as 'better.' "Yeah," I agree, smoothing out the line in between her eyes. We sit in silence as everyone else around us tries to give us some privacy. Rachel is most likely flirting with Real Derek.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Peyton tells me, brushing her thumb along the bandage on my palm. I nod but don't say anything. "I was—I was scared, Brooke."

I know how that feels. I don't want to say it, but I'm petrified to be alone tonight. I definitely won't be sleeping, and then tomorrow my headache is going to be a million elephants worse. I'm just so worried that Pretend Derek is going to burst through my door and attack me again. Who's to say he won't? The police didn't catch him; he could be anywhere! He could be here! He could be in this _room. _

My breathing quickens and Peyton notices. She pushes my hair back and really gently rubs her thumb along the line of my cheek. "Brooke," she murmurs softly, "You're okay. You're safe here."

I nod and try to regain control. I really don't want to lose it in a room full of people. Especially in front of Peyton's Real Brother, who also happens to be a badass marine. "Sorry," I mutter, blushing. I don't think anyone can see it though, under all my bruising.

"Don't apologise. This is my fault. I'm sorry this happened to you," there are tears in her eyes. Oh no, I don't want a crying Peyton.

"It's not your fault, crazy. It's Pretend Derek's fault." I twirl one of my fingers into a curl and tug gently. She smiles at the familiar action. "The baby's fine," I whisper.

Her smile widens and she wraps her arms tentatively around my shoulders, being careful of my bruises. "That's great news, Brooke," she exclaims softly into my hair. I nod, the pain once again shooting into the backs of my eyes.

"So," I pull away but keep our pinkies linked, "Do I get to meet Real Brother Derek?"

Peyton's eyes widen. "Oh, my god! I completely forgot! Brooke, this is Derek," she gestures to the black guy. He nods curtly and offers a tight smile. "He's my brother."

I return the smile and look him up and down. He's definitely not what I expected, but hey. He saved Peyton and me. He's pretty awesome in my book. "Hey," I rasp, raising a bandaged hand in greeting. His eyes linger on the bandages, and then slowly travel down my arm to the handprints on my shoulders and up to the marks on my neck. A frown mars his features then, and it grows when he finally meets my eyes.

"Hi." His voice is deep and smooth. I like it. Real Derek steps forward slowly, keeping his hands at his sides. "You're pretty brave, Brooke Davis."

This greeting startles me. Of all the things to say, and he goes with 'You're pretty brave?' Weird. I quirk a brow, "Um…thanks?"

Real Derek actually gives an almost-smile. "I mean it. Not a lot of people would do what you did."

Again, I can feel myself blushing, and again the bruises keep that fact hidden. I hope. "I—it wasn't anything special," I stammer, shrugging. Peyton tugs on my pinky and I meet her eyes. They're sparkling with tears again.

"You saved me," she whispers. A tear streaks down her cheek and drips onto her lip.

"I didn't—no, I…I didn't do anything special, guys. My friend was in trouble, I reacted, no big." I shrug again and relax slightly when I feel Luke's hand on the back of my neck, massaging.

Real Derek shakes his head, a small almost-smile on his lips. "Whatever, Davis. Either way, thanks." He sees I'm about to speak and he continues, "Just accept it and move on."

I shut my mouth and nod. Lucas kisses my head and I feel him exhale. A somber silence falls over my little hospital room; no one really knows what to say. What do you say in a situation like this? We nearly got torn apart. I know that if I came that close to losing Haley, or Nathan, or Rachel, I'd be a mess. Or Peyton or Luke? I'd be catatonic. I'd be frantic. I'd be all sorts of adjectives. So the silence weighing heavily on all of us right now? Not unexpected.

The world outside my window is darkening. The sunset is filling my room with orange light, illuminating some things and casting others in shadow. I snuggle into Luke's shoulder and sigh, rubbing my thumb over Peyton's hand. I can hear everyone's breathing, and it's kind of relaxing. We're like a big machine, inhaling and exhaling as a unit.

"I want some jell-o," Rachel is the one to break the silence. She shrugs her shoulders and gets up, looking over her shoulder as she goes. "Anyone want?"

Rachel is great, she really is, but heavy isn't her scene (clearly, seeing as she got liposuction). She's much more into the joking and the banter and the casual sex; anything more is painful and hard and too real for her to handle. She's a lot like me, except she's better at hiding her heart.

"I want some," I pipe up, coughing slightly to clear my throat. She nods and counts the raised hands before sauntering out the door.

"How do you stand her?" Haley asks me again, sounding exasperated.

I exhale slowly, "She's not that bad, Hales, she's just not into this kind of stuff. Y'know, serious and all." To be honest, neither am I. It's scary and hard and I never really know what to say.

"But she's so…so…ugh!" Haley drops her head back to rest against Nathan's shoulder. He smirks into her hair and presses a gentle kiss to her ear. "She's Rachel."

Peyton nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She's definitely Rachel."

I frown at the way she says her name like it's a dirty word.

"She's my friend. She's been there when _some of you_," I stare meaningfully at Peyton, "haven't." She has the decency to look slightly guilty. Haley just shrugs.

"I still don't like her, Tigger. But," she sighs dramatically, "I guess if you want her around, I'll…_tolerate _her." She grimaces at the thought and I laugh. The action hurts my throat and Luke quickly hands me my water.

"Thanks," I whisper to him, then louder, "Thanks, Tutor Wife." I give her a black-and-blue wink and turn to Peyton. "That means a lot."

Peyton gets my unsubtle hint and she rolls her eyes. "Fine," she concedes. "But if she gets me drunk again and puts me in a hotel room with Lucas, don't get mad at _me._" I scowl at her and she raises her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. She's not _that _bad…"

"So I had to basically flash my boobs to get this damn stuff, y'all better enjoy it," Rachel calls as she struts into the room, a tray full of jell-o in her hands. Haley groans and Peyton laughs. Derek raises his eyebrows at her entrance and another almost-smile graces his features.

"Thanks, ya big slut," I rasp, holding my spoon up eagerly. She rolls her eyes and tosses me a pudding. Lucas catches it before I get biffed in the head. I kiss his lips softly in thanks and he grins boyishly.

We all dig into our jell-o, conversation ceasing while we eat. I love jell-o I think. Not romantically, straight platonic, but wow. If jell-o were a guy I'd be all over it. Him. Whatever.

"Gross, Brooke, I don't want to hear you climax. Cool it," Rachel snips, rolling her eyes. I didn't even realise I was making noises this time. But it's so good and it makes my throat stop burning.

I flip her the finger and scoop another spoonful into my mouth. Lucas laughs at my eagerness and Peyton shakes her head. "You're hopeless," she informs me, patting my knee. I shrug and nod.

Derek looks a little awkward, sitting in a hospital room full of strangers eating jell-o. He doesn't maintain eye contact and keeps looking at his trainers, shuffling his feet and tensing his shoulders. It's a bit strange how at-home Pretend Derek seemed, when Real Derek is so uncomfortable in our presence. It makes me feel weird and my skin gets prickly as I realise how easy it was for Pretend Derek to get close to us.

"So, Derek, you're a marine?" I ask, trying to ignore the hot flush of my skin as my momentary panic subsides. "That's cool. I bet you look good in uniform."

A short laugh escapes Derek and he nods. "Yeah, I am, have been since I turned eighteen. And you're right," he smirks, "I look _damn _good in my uniform."

Rachel eyes him up and down and nods appreciatively. "I believe it," she intones, her eyes lingering on Derek's lower half. Peyton smacks her leg.

"Stop perving on my brother."

Shrugging, Rachel swats Peyton back, mussing her curls. "Nope."

Derek just shakes his head, that almost-smile of his playing at his lips. I'm sure he's still getting used to Peyton calling him her 'brother.' That must be a weird feeling. I know _I _would be freaked for sure.

The kind looking nurse from earlier pops her head into my room. "Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over," she glances out the window at the darkened sky, "and have been for some time." She gives me a small, warm smile and holds the door open for my friends to leave.

This is the moment I've been dreading since I woke up. I don't want to be alone in a dark and scary hospital room, hooked up to beeping machines and wonky from pain meds. I want to be with Lucas, tucked away in his safe bed and inhaling the familiar smell of home. I want to be at his house with Karen making tea in the kitchen and Lucas reading one of his old battered novels, propped up in bed next to me. I want to be watching TV on his couch with his fingers playing with my hair.

Everyone gets up slowly and comes over to my bed to say good-bye. I try to keep my panicking thoughts at bay so I can see them off, but it's hard. Luke keeps his warm fingers at the base of my neck and it kind of helps.

"See you soon, Tigger," Haley kisses my forehead and gives me a small smile. "Sleep well." Hah, as if.

"Love you, Brooke," Nathan whispers against my cheek, hugging me carefully. "I'll see you tomorrow." If I don't die here alone in this dark room.

Rachel's next, smirking and cocking her hip. "Don't do any sleep eating, you're big enough as it is." She ruffles my hair gently and I see her eyes sparkle under the fluorescents. Love you too, Rache.

"Bye, B. Davis," Peyton murmurs as she hugs me again. "Thanks, y'know, for saving me." Anytime, P. Sawyer.

Derek offers his hand out for me to shake. It's big and warm and surprisingly soft. "Nice to meet you, Brooke," he tells me, his almost-smile making me smile back.

Finally it's just Broody and me. I'm still terrified of being alone, and I'm pretty convinced Pretend Derek is lurking the halls with a knife. Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. "I don't want you to go," I admit in a small voice. Lucas shifts so he's in front of me. His ocean eyes are swirling.

"I don't want to go," he tells me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on my jaw, carefully avoiding the huge bruise there. "I love you, Pretty Girl."

I nod and try to keep from crying, but the motion hurts my head and the day has been so eventful and Pretend Derek is lurking the halls with a knife! so I can't keep the tears away and suddenly they're pouring down my cheeks. I reach a bandaged hand out and grip Lucas' shirt tightly, ignoring the sting in my palm. His eyes fill with loving concern and he engulfs me in a hug. Warm hands caress my back and hair as I inhale the soothing smell of him.

"Don't cry, Cheery," he pleads, pressing a gently kiss to my temple, "It breaks my heart."

I nod against his chest and grimace as I bump my stitches on his collarbone. "I'm sorry," I murmur thickly, sniffing and wincing. "I just…I'm scared, Luke."

He sighs against my skin and I shiver. "I know," he tells me. "I am, too." The waver in his voice tells me it's true. That scares me more than anything else, that Lucas is afraid of Pretend Derek as well. "I never want to come that close to losing you again," he continues, slightly easing my worries, "and if that means never letting you out of my sight, so be it."

I like the sound of that. "Then don't go," I suggest hopefully, pressing my bruised lips to the skin at the base of his neck.

"Visiting hours are over, Brooke," he reminds me gently.

I scoff and it hurts my throat. "Rules are made to be broken, Broody," I remind him, my eyelashes brushing his neck. I feel him shiver.

"Brooke," he groans. "I can't stay. I want to, you _know _I want to." He pulls back and looks into my eyes, "But I can't."

Nodding solemnly, I try to look strong and stoic rather than beyond terrified. "Yeah, I know," I rasp, playing with the collar of his shirt. "I just wish you could."

He presses his lips to the unbruised area of my forehead and exhales against my skin. "I'm sorry, Pretty Girl."

"It's okay." I find I say that a lot. "Love you." I stretch my neck to reach his lips and sigh softly against them.

"Love you too. I'll be here when you wake up in the morning, okay?" Ocean eyes and boyish charm. I nod mutely. "Okay. Bye," he kisses me again, being all too gentle, and gets up to leave. My pulse quickens at the thought of him gone but I don't want to worry him, so I force a smile when he turns to wave. And suddenly I'm alone in the dark room, hooked up to beeping machines and wonky on pain meds. I'm so gonna die tonight.

"Alright, dear, I'll just give you a sleeping pill and see you in the morning," the kind nurse is back with a glass of water and a cup of pills. I startle and groan as my head sparks with pain. A frown mars her features and she hands me the pills with the water. "Here you are, dear."

The pills are big and they hurt going down. I chug the water, some of it spilling into my lap. "Thanks," I croak, my throat hurting more than before. More jell-o would be nice. She smiles warmly and tucks me in.

"Good-night, dear," she murmurs. I feel my eyelids getting heavy and I glance once more out the darkened window before I fall asleep.

"Can you believe this? The first time we've seen our daughter in months and she's _asleep!" _

"Now, Victoria, it's not her fault. The doctor said they gave her pills to help her sleep."

"Now they're trying to turn my only daughter into a _junkie? _Who runs this Podunk hospital anyway, the Muppets?"

"Mrs. Davis, just give her some time, she'll wake up soon."

"She'd better, or I'm suing everyone and their uncle for malpractice. She's seventeen, for God's sake. What were you thinking, pumping her full of drugs? She's impressionable and foolish. And I will _not _have a drug-addled teen as a daughter."

"Mrs. Davis, Brooke's not going to be _drug-addled, _it's one sleeping pill."

"For all I know, sleeping pills are the gateway drug to crack cocaine and crystal meth."

This is a weird dream. Everything sounds distorted and kind of far away, and I don't know why my mother and father are in it and talking about drugs, but maybe that's what happens when you eat jell-o before bed. Kind of like when you have bad dreams after eating cheese or something.

I groan and crack my eyes open. Oh. So it wasn't a dream, then. Standing at the end of my bed are none other than Richard and Victoria Davis, looking expectedly stiff and bored. My father has one hand in his pocket and the other on his phone. My mother has her arms crossed and a superior look on her face, which is curiously free of wrinkles, despite her aging. I'm surprised to see them here.

"Mum? Dad?" My voice is thick with sleep still. I struggle to sit up and blink to clear the sleep from my eyes.

"Oh, good, she's awake. It's wonderful to know your incompetence hasn't left her a bumbling vegetable," my mother says brusquely, her eyes narrowed at the poor nurse.

My father just offers a smile and ignores his wife. "Hi, Brooke."

My brow is furrowed and my mouth hanging open slightly. I shake my head a little and begin to speak, but my mother interrupts.

"Oh, perhaps I spoke too soon," she mutters, her narrowed eyes focusing on me. I give her a look and shake my head again.

"No—I'm not a _vegetable, _mum; I'm just surprised. When did you get here?"

My father shrugs a shoulder, his eyes back on his phone. "Earlier this morning. We would've been here earlier, but there aren't many flights to Tree Hill, North Carolina."

I feel my lips tugging up into a smile. They actually came. Not only that, they came in the _middle of the night. _My chest feels warmer. "Oh," is all I can really say.

"Yes, well, it isn't pleasant to be back in this useless town, I can assure you," my mother says, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "No wonder we left. The medical staff is incompetent."

The nurse winces at her jab and tries to busy herself with the readings of the machines attached to me. "Stop it, mother," I sigh, giving the nurse an apologetic shrug. She smiles in return.

"All I'm saying is it wouldn't kill them to get their degrees from somewhere other than ," she grumbles, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I roll my eyes at her, kind of gaining comfort from the fact that she hasn't changed.

"Whatever. Can I get out of here soon? Have you guys signed the papers?" I'm unbelievably ready to get out of this hospital gown.

My father answers me, his dark grey eyes meeting mine briefly. "Yes, we've signed off on your clean bill of health. You are officially discharged." The only change in my father is his actual noticing of me. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

"Alright…" a thought strikes me and I ask my father, "Is Lucas here? He said he'd be here when I woke up."

My father wrinkles his forehead in thought. "Lucas…Lucas…is he a blonde boy, tall, lanky?" He looks to me for confirmation and I nod quickly, my head twinging. "Then yes, he's outside. Your mother insisted he stay out of your room, she said something about fleas."

"What is she _talking _about?" I sigh, "Can you get him, dad?"

He looks startled at my request, but goes to get him anyway. My mother fixes me with a calculating look. "You're not back with that boy, are you?" she wants to know, clicking her tongue. "Brooke, he's not good enough for you. He's scruffy and clearly works with his hands. You're a _Davis._ You're above that sort of ruffian."

"Mum, stop it. Luke isn't a 'ruffian,' he's very sweet. And smart. He's going to be a writer," I gloat, enjoying the look that flashes across her face. "Be nice to him. And he _doesn't _have fleas, mother."

She just shrugs and pats her hair. "I will treat him how I feel he deserves to be treated," she informs me haughtily, "Nothing more, nothing less."

Knowing this is as good as I'm going to get, I sigh and nod in consent. "Fine."

"Fine."

"Brooke?" Luke is standing in the doorway looking nervous, my father directly behind him. He's typing away on his phone.

"Hi, Luke," I smile warmly at him, my cheeks cramping from the bruising. "Come in."

My mother snorts and moves to the side as Luke walks past her. I give her a stern look before turning my attention to him. His shoulders are hunched and he's squinting, trying to ignore my mother's eyes boring a hole into his back. "Ignore her," I whisper, "She's rude to everyone."

He nods quickly and lets out a breath he was apparently holding. He leans down and whispers conspiratorially, "She scares me."

I trace the line of his brow, "She scares me, too." He smiles at my touch and my stomach flips. "Just pretend she's not here."

"I can try," he mutters back, shooting a glance over his shoulder at her. She's glaring at him and scoffs when his eyes meet hers, "But I don't know how great that'll work. I think she thinks I have fleas…"

"Yeah," I nod, "She's kind of a snob."

Lucas laughs quietly and I join him, my throat flaring. He hands me my water and watches me as I sip on the straw. "What?" I ask self-consciously.

"Nothing," he shrugs, brushing the back of his hand over my cheek, "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are."

I roll my eyes and take another sip, "Yeah, okay. Lying in a hospital bed covered in heinous bruises in this fugly gown; I'm a real catch." I look away and my fake smile drops slightly. I was lying when I said I'm a catch.

"You are," Luke assures me, tracing my lips softly with his index finger. My mother winces at the touch; she's worried about where his hands have been, what with him being a ruffian and all. I ignore her. Lucas' fingers tuck under my chin and he leans in to press his lips gently to mine. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Broody. Can I go home now? This hospital gown is awful. Sickly grey is not my colour." I make a face and pluck at the fabric. He laughs again and nods, nudging my nose with his.

"I'll get the wheelchair."

"No!" I exclaim, cringing. "I am _not _leaving here in a _wheelchair! _I'm not an invalid, Luke."

The nurse, who until now had been fiddling with the machines, speaks up. "I'm sorry, Ms. Davis, it's hospital policy. A liability issue, nothing more."

I groan and flop my head back into my pillow. "I don't _need _a wheelchair."

"I know," Luke tells me, "but you can't leave unless you're in one."

Pouting, I turn to him and say, "I'm only getting in one if you ride in one, too."

His eyebrows shoot up and a small smile tugs at his lips. "Challenge accepted, Davis." He winks and stands quickly, heading into the hallway to grab my wheelchair.

"Actually, he can't—" the nurse starts, but my mother silences her with a look. For once, I'm glad for her presence. Luke comes back in pushing a wheelchair and smiling.

"Your chariot has arrived," he grins, bowing slightly. I giggle and thank him, and my parents leave as I get changed into my clothes. My mother gives Lucas one last lingering glare before closing the door and he shudders. "She's so scary!" he blurts out, blushing slightly.

I nod and struggle with the button of my trousers. Luke gently pushes my hands away and does it for me. Quirking a brow, I smirk, "That's a first." Luke shakes his head and laughs.

"Shut up and put your shirt on," he tells me, pointing a finger at me sternly. I sigh and sit back down, already tired. "Here, I'll help." He grabs my shirt and holds it over my head, urging me to lift my arms up. Working the fabric carefully over my face, he lets me fit my arms through before tugging the hem down over my bare stomach. His eyes linger before he shakes his head and gives me a half-grin. "All done."

"I'm not," I mutter, my gaze on his lips. Luke's half-smile grows and he leans down, his hands resting on either side of me. Encased in a little Luke bubble, I raise my hands and place them against his chest before his lips meet mine. He's still being unnecessarily gentle and I groan in frustration before pressing my lips more firmly against his, running my tongue along his bottom lip. He moans into my mouth and I slip my tongue inside, touching his softly. He leans down farther, resting on his forearms as I lie back on my hospital bed. Towering above me, Luke pulls back to look into my eyes.

"You're kinda pretty, Brooke Davis," he grins, kissing below my ear. I laugh breathlessly and fist his shirt, pulling him back to my mouth. His lips are soft and warm and I feel as close to normal as I have in a long while. I sigh against his lips and tangle my fingers in his hair, not registering the click of a door before it's too late.

"Oh, for God's sake, Brooke. Have some class," my mother snaps from the doorway. Luke jumps and straightens quickly, rubbing the back of his neck roughly. I push myself up and pat my hair, glaring at my mother.

"It's called knocking, mother," I frown. She rolls her eyes and readjusts her purse.

"Your father and I are waiting," she says before closing the door again. I groan and flop back against the bed, covering my bruised face. Luke sighs and sits down heavily next to me.

"She hates me. I'm doomed."

I lift a hand from my face and pat his arm. "She hates everyone. She's Bitchtoria, remember?"

Luke nods and rubs his face. "I just kind of always thought you were exaggerating. Wow."

"Nope. All the stories are true." Pushing back into a sitting position, I lace my fingers with his. "Let's roll out." Lucas laughs at my pun.

The wheelchair looks daunting and unnecessary. Tugging me forward, Lucas motions to the chair. "Your terrifying mother is waiting, Brooke," he reminds me. I groan and face him, pout on full display.

"You go first."

He shakes his head. "No way. In you go, Cheery."

An idea pops into my head. "No, you first, and I'll sit on your lap." I cross my arms and quirk a brow, daring him to defy me. He doesn't, and dutifully climbs into the chair. "Thanks, Boyfriend!" I settle myself into his lap and kiss his chin. "Wheel us on outta here, chief."

The ride to the car is a quiet and awkward affair. My mother keeps shooting glares at my position on Lucas' lap, tutting to herself and frowning. My father types away on his phone and mostly ignores us, occasionally holding open a door or patting my head absently. Finally we arrive at their car and Lucas rolls to a stop, one arm resting against my thigh. I don't want to get up.

"Come on then, Brooke," my mother urges, nudging my shoulder. It's the most contact we've had in months.

I climb out of Luke's lap and straighten my shirt. I can feel Luke behind me and I give my mother a look before I say good-bye to him. She sighs dramatically but pulls my father away.

"I'll come by later, okay?" Lucas tells me, squinting at me and touching my cheek. He looks worriedly over my shoulder at my mother.

"Come by where? Luke, they don't have a house here, remember?" I put my bandaged palm against his cheek and pull his eyes back to me. He nods sheepishly and gives me a half-grin.

"Oh yeah. So…where are you staying?" He looks nervous. I tilt my head and study his face. He's worrying his lip and the crinkle between his eyes is back.

"Lucas…" I start, "What aren't you telling me?"

He looks down at his feet and shuffles. "My mum, uh…she offered our house. For your parents to stay in. While they're here."

My eyebrows disappear into my hairline. I really can't see my bitchy mother and distant father living under the same roof as someone as amazing as Karen. "Really? Is she crazy?"

Luke shrugs and looks at me apologetically. "Maybe? But she already made up her bed on the couch, so your parents could have her bed, and you'd sleep in my room," he fingers a strand of my hair absently, "She really wants them to stay with us. And if they don't want to stay, she wants to at least have them for dinner."

This is going to be the worst. But if Karen really wants it to happen, who am I to say 'hell no?' After everything she's done for me, I'm not sure there's anything I wouldn't do for her. "Fine," I concede, my shoulders dropping. "I'll talk to them." Luke grins and kisses me quickly.

"Thanks, Brooke," he says softly, giving me his boyish grin. I nod and kiss him again before pushing against his chest.

"You better go, or my mother will be after you," I smirk at the flash of worry on his face before he sticks his tongue out and pokes my belly.

"Bye, baby," he whispers, so soft I barely hear it. It makes my lips spread wide and I place my hands over my belly.

"Say bye to daddy," I murmur, and Lucas' face splits into a beaming smile. "Bye, Lucas."

He waves and watches me climb into the car and slam the door. I raise a hand in a wave and he waves back, his smile still blinding. My grin widens as he mouths 'I love you,' as we pull away. Glancing down at my wrapped hands covering my stomach, I feel my chest fill with warmth at the thought of little baby growing away inside me. They're gonna be the most wonderful baby ever.

"You're awfully quiet," my mother notices, glancing back at me. I startle and pull my hands away from my belly, trying to rearrange my battered features into something not screaming of 'motherly excitement and joy over the unborn child in my stomach.'

"Just thinking," I tell her, folding my hands together in my lap. She nods and slips her sunglasses on. "Where are you guys staying?"

My father flicks on the right blinker and turns, the motion pressing me against my door. The streets are pretty empty right now, midday on a weekday. It's nice.

"The Balmoral, downtown. It's definitely not a five-star hotel, but it's the best this…quaint…town has to offer." My mother lifts her nose and flicks her hair. "We've got a room for you there."

"What? No, mum, I have a place to stay. I live with my friend Rachel, remember?" She doesn't acknowledge this, so I keep going, "she lives in that big white mansion with the pillars?"

"Oh yes, that tacky place. Don't be silly, Brooke, you're staying with us." Her tone sounds indefinite; I hope I can change her mind. She's nearly as stubborn as I am.

"Mum, I'd really rather not." She lowers her sunglasses at this and peers at me through the side mirror. My father remains silent in the drivers seat. "Besides," I continue, "Luke's mum, Karen, offered her house."

She raises her eyebrows. "You expect us to live under the same roof as that _ruffian _and the woman who bore him? Please."

I groan in frustration. Sometimes my mother was impossible. "Mum, Karen is a lovely woman. She has her own business," I don't tell my mother it's a small café here in Tree Hill, "and like I said, Luke is smart and kind and sweet. They're not criminals. And Karen is offering you and dad a free place to live."

"I am definitely not squatting in some common slum. The room we've got at the hotel is perfectly acceptable."

"Mother, it is not a _slum._" I press the heel of my hand against my forehead and wince as sparks of pain shoot to the backs of my eyes. "At least come over for dinner."

Pursing her lips, Victoria considers this. "Fine," she concedes, "One dinner. But we are not staying overnight; I don't want to get bedbugs."

Letting out the breath I was holding, I lean my head against my seat. "Thank you," I say grandly, flopping my hands to my sides. My mother tuts and glances out the window, watching Tree Hill flash by. I know how much she hates this town; it must be killing her to be back here. But she came back, for me.

My father pulls up to the hotel and turns the car off. It's silent until my mother speaks. "My bags are in the trunk, Richard," she says, before opening her door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. My father nods and meets my eyes in the rearview mirror before climbing out himself. My mother taps on my window and motions for me to get out. I try, but my seatbelt is sticking and it hurts my palms to tug on it. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper and try again. It doesn't budge and my palms are burning. My mother taps harder against the glass and I glance up quickly, motioning to my belt.

"I can't get it," I admit, trying to disregard the fiery pain in my palms. Rolling her eyes and giving an exasperated sigh, she opens my door and reaches across me to tug on the belt. It unbuckles in one try and she gives me a look. She always had a way of making me feel stupid and useless.

"Stop dawdling, Brooke."

"Sorry," I bite my lip and shuffle out of the car, tucking my hands into my pockets. I press them against my thighs to try and stop the stinging. The rough denim does nothing to stifle the pain. "So, how long are you here for?"

My mother glances at me from over her shoulder. "As long as it takes to get you better," she says casually. Startled, I tilt my head and stare at her back.

"What?"

She sighs exasperatedly and turns to face me, readjusting her purse. "I said, until you're better. Did the attack affect your hearing?"

I shake my head no and she nods curtly, turning on her heel to follow my father and the bags inside. Left on the sidewalk outside, I stand and stare after her, and she spares me another glance as the glass doors close behind her. They're going to stay until I'm better. My parents are going to be in Tree Hill. Here, with me. With Lucas and baby. Oh my god.

My mother pokes her head out and fixes me with a look. "Are you coming? I don't want all of this shantytown thinking a Davis has gone off the deep end, and you look a tad homeless right now."

I don't answer, just make my feet move and follow her inside. I can't believe they're staying until I'm better. Who knows how long that could be? I mean, I could potentially have extensive psychological damage or whatever, and that could take years to overcome. I wonder if they've thought about that. Probably not. They probably think this is some simple situation that can be healed within a week. I don't even think my cheek will be healed that quickly, and I know Doctor Kensington said I should take it easy for at least two weeks because of my head trauma.

The Davis family is back in Tree Hill. This is going to be a nightmare.

"So this Karen woman has her own business, you said?" My mum is quizzing me on Karen Roe on our way to their house for dinner. My father is driving again and ignoring everything around him except for his phone and my mother is sitting in her seat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, firing off question after question about Luke and Karen.

"Yes, mum, it's pretty successful too. Everyone loves her, she's great." I'm tired of her already and we're not even there yet. My head hurts and my cheek is aching and my palms sting and my throat is burning, but I don't say anything.

"And the father?" she digs for more, turning her head slightly to me in the back seat. Her profile is just like mine.

"He's not around," I tell her, "He was raised by his Uncle Keith."

"Hmm," she hums, raising her eyebrows. "Boys need a father figure, otherwise they're delinquents. This Lucas seems like a delinquent."

"He's not a delinquent, mother. Keith was a wonderful man and a better father than dad ever was." My mother fixes me with a glare, but I don't think my father even heard me.

"Don't get smart, Brooke. Your father does his best to keep you happy and well looked after," she reminds me, sniffing and patting at her hair. I roll my eyes and look out the window, ignoring her other questions until we finally pull up in front of his house.

I don't have as much trouble with my seatbelt this time, and Lucas comes down to the car to open my door. My mother glares at him through narrowed eyes and he does his best to pretend she's smiling and greeting him warmly.

"Hi, Mrs. Davis, glad you could make it," he says kindly, lacing our fingers together. I give his hand a squeeze.

My mother nods disdainfully and lifts her chin. "Yes, well, Brooke insisted."

Luke puffs out his cheeks and doesn't reply. My mother inspects her surroundings with a slight grimace.

"Mr. Davis, it's nice to see you," Luke tries again. My father looks up briefly from his phone and gives Luke an offhand nod.

"Yes, Louis, nice to see you too," he replies, accepting Luke's outstretched hand. "Thanks for having us."

"N-no problem," Luke stutters, giving me a look. He leads us inside, his hand still in mine, and my mother exhales roughly when she sees the inside of his house.

"Mother," I hiss, poking her side. She swats me away and sighs. "And dad, it's 'Lucas,' not 'Louis.'" My father shrugs and tucks his phone into his trouser pocket.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis, it's so good to finally meet you!" Karen greets them at the door, offering to take their coats and smiling away. Like I said, too optimistic. "Please, come in, sit down…can I get you a drink?"

My mother nods and insists on wine, whereas my father declines brusquely. Karen ignores their haughtiness and fixes my mother her drink, leading us all into the living room. "Please, sit," she gestures to the couch and waits for them to settle down before sitting. My mother ostentatiously runs her finger over the couch before sitting, grimacing as she does. Karen ignores that, too.

"Thanks for having us, Karen," I say, sending her as apologetic a look as I can muster in my bruised and battered state.

Karen waves me away fondly. "It's nothing, Brooke, really. Do you need anything?"

I shrug, "A drink of water would actually be great, but I can get it." I move to stand and Karen shakes her head. She returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and I take it gratefully. "Thanks."

My parents don't really say anything unless they're asked a direct question, and even then they limit their answers to a few words. I keep sending them warning glances, but they studiously ignore me and continue being super rude. I shrug and apologise to Karen and she gives me an understanding smile.

"It's fine, Brooke, their daughter more than makes up for it." She pats my untouched cheek gently and moves to gather our coasters, leading us into the dining room for dinner. As usual, it's delicious, and as usual my mother and father are critical and snooty.

"So, Mrs. Davis, you must be quite proud of your daughter," Karen bravely addresses my mother halfway through dinner. Victoria looks up from staring at her potatoes and meets Karen's gaze. There seems to be a bit of a challenge there.

"Of course I am," my mother answers, sending me a tight smile. "She's a wonderful girl."

Karen nods. "Yes, saving her friend like that; I don't know many that would do that. She's truly an amazing girl. Student Council President, Cheer Captain, popular, kind…I know I would be proud of her if she were my daughter."

My mother's eyes narrow slightly and she takes a dainty sip of her wine. "Yes, well, like I said, she's a wonderful girl. Isn't she, Richard?"

My father nods and takes a bite of chicken, forgoing a verbal response. I roll my eyes and nudge Luke's leg with my knee, sending him a bruised wink and a secret smile. He smiles back, his ocean eyes twinkling.

Dinners as a kid always sucked. My mother was critical and insistent and my father was distant and uninterested, and I would sit in my huge chair and pick at the fancy meal my parents would've had the cook prepare. It would be silent except for the occasional cough or a 'please pass the salt.' And I'd sit and wish I were at Peyton's or Nathan's, but mostly Peyton's. There was always talking and laughing at dinner at Peyton's. The only time there was talking at a dinner at my house was when my parents would explode at each other, and then the 'talking' was so loud I couldn't think.

This dinner is almost as painful as those angry childhood dinners. My mother keeps grimacing at the delicious food Karen's prepared, and my father hasn't said a word. Karen's trying to keep conversation flowing, but my parents refuse to partake, so it's all me Lucas and Karen. Finally I've had enough and I address my mother curtly.

"Mum, are you and dad really going to stay until I get better?" She just looks up and meets my gaze, nodding in response. "What about dad's work and your social engagements?"

She shakes her head. "Don't be silly, Brooke. Your father can handle his business by phone for now, and the country club will be just fine without me for a few days." Karen raises her eyebrows at my mother's estimate of my healing period.

"A few days?" she repeats, garnering my mother's attention. Victoria nods as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, that's certainly optimistic, don't you think?"

My mother shakes her head tersely, "I'd say it's an accurate estimate, actually. Brooke is a Davis. Davis' are of a better breed than the rest of you." She glances over at Lucas with a quirked brow. I glare harshly at her.

"Yes, well, as superior as Brooke's _breeding _may be, she still has a lot of healing to do, healing that surely can't be done within a few days," Karen contradicts, giving my mother a disbelieving look. My father remains quiet in his seat as my mother squares off with Karen.

"Brooke is _fine, _it's just a bit of bruising," she insists, placing her knife and fork down on her plate. "And in case you've forgotten, what with Brooke's misguided attempts at fitting in to an incomplete family, she's still _our _daughter. We know what's best for her."

Lucas is gripping his fork harshly, the metal clearly digging into his skin, but he doesn't say anything. Karen's eyes widen at my mother's disrespect and she places her glass down carefully.

"You could've fooled me," she says quietly, defiantly meeting my mother's eyes in a silent dare.

Victoria's eyes narrow and my father looks up from his chicken, appearing almost interested. "What are you insinuating, Ms. Roe?" my mother asks in a dangerously calm voice, emphasizing the 'Ms.'

Karen shrugs, "You know perfectly well what I'm insinuating, _Mrs. _Davis." She stares back at Victoria boldly, "You don't know your daughter at all."

I'm really uncomfortable. This has the potential to turn into the biggest blow up Tree Hill has ever witnessed. My mother is a bitch even when she's in a good mood, so a pissed off Bitchtoria is a sight to behold. And I've never really seen Karen angry, but I'm thinking she could pack a serious punch. I'm tempted to step in and try and settle this down, but I don't know how. Also, I'm scared of my mother, especially when she has such an affronted look on her face.

"Ex_cuse _me?" she bursts, her eyebrows rising at Karen's words. "I don't know my daughter? I gave _birth _to her, I gave her _life, _I provide her with everything she'd ever need. I'm her _mother. _How dare you?"

Those are good points.

Taking a careful sip of her water, Karen takes her time in answering. "When was the last time you spoke to your daughter, Mrs. Davis? Not including today, I mean," she adds when my mother opens her mouth furiously. "When was the last time you hugged her, or let her know how much you care for her? When was the last time you spent time with her, instead of throwing your money at her and jet-setting off to California?"

My mother is livid, her nostrils flaring and her lips thinned. My father looks interested, gazing back and forth between Karen and her. I'm stuck in my chair, staring at my plate and trying to disappear while Luke rubs my thigh gently. This is going to be messy.

"My parenting is not the issue here," she finally speaks, her voice low and heated. "I have given her everything, and she has grown into an acceptable member of society. She is beautiful and a Davis; there's nothing more she needs to succeed."

Karen scoffs and throws her napkin down. "You are a piece of work, Victoria, you know that?" She pushes herself back from the table and grabs her plate. "Thank you for coming over, it was _lovely _to finally meet you. How Brooke turned out as well as she did is a complete mystery."

She exits the room, leaving my mother gaping at her back and my father raising his eyebrows and turning back to his meal. I'm afraid to look up and Lucas is stiff and silent next to me, his thumb still rubbing my thigh. I had no idea Karen and my mother would clash like _that, _especially not about _me. _I chance a glance at my mother and she's still fuming. Her eyes snap to me and I can see the anger clearly in the blue irises. Someone is going to get bitched out, _hard._

"The chicken is really good, huh?" I try, taking a small bite and nodding. My mother scoffs and throws her napkin onto her plate, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms angrily. At the other end of the table, my father nods his agreement and cuts himself another bite.

"I'm so sorry Karen," I say in a rush, placing my plate in the sink and grabbing her arm. "I had no idea she would be this bad."

"It's fine, Brooke, really. I'm sorry for going off at your mother like that. That was rude of me," she apologises, patting my arm.

"It totally wasn't rude, my mother deserved it. She was being a bitch, I'm _sorry._"

Karen reluctantly nods and gives me a smile. It falters slightly and she leans in closer, "Have you told them about…?" She gestures to my stomach and looks imploringly at me.

I shake my head furiously. "Oh _hell _no. There's no way I'm telling my parents I'm _pregnant; _they'd like completely flip out. You saw my mother tonight, just multiply that by like a jillion." I gesture wildly in the direction of my parents, shaking my head still.

Karen nods, grabbing a dishrag. As she turns, her shoulders stiffen and I feel my stomach swoop. Turning my head to where she's looking, my heart picks up and I feel my palms start to sweat. In the doorway stands my mother, looking thunderous. Her eyes dart from me to Karen and back again, before settling dangerously on my stomach. She slowly meets my gaze, keeping her face deceptively calm.

"What did you just say?" she asks me slowly, the anger in her voice barely kept in check. I swallow heavily and shake my head, avoiding her eyes. My hands drift protectively to my stomach and I see her nostrils flare and her hands flex. "Brooke, I'm talking to you. What did you _just say?"_

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. I look helplessly to Karen and she just stares back at me. I have no idea what to say. I'm going to get _destroyed._ I wish Lucas was in here with me, but he's still at the table with my father. Wringing my hands painfully, I take a deep breath. "I said…" I exhale slowly, trying to work up the courage. "I said I was pregnant." My voice is a raspy whisper and my pulse is thrumming in my ears. I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die.

My mother nods slowly, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Of course," she says dangerously, quietly. "You're _pregnant. _Seventeen, barely passing high school, and _pregnant._" She laughs shortly, but there's no humour in it. I can feel my heart beat in my throat. "You stupid little girl."

I flinch at her tone and the look she's giving me. She hasn't looked at me like that since I was eleven and Peyton and I broke some antique vase worth hundreds of thousands. This is possibly the scariest look I've ever received, and that's including Pretend Derek's terrifying smirk. "I'm sorry," I whisper, still avoiding her eyes. If looks could kill, hey?

"You're _sorry?" _ She scoffs. "Oh, that's helpful, Brooke. That's fine, everything's better now! Thank you!" Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she continues her verbal assault. I want to hide. "I didn't raise some cheap whore as my daughter, Brooke. I raised you to be better than this. I raised you to be a _Davis." _Victoria sighs in angry disappointment and turns her glare to Karen. "I suppose this is _your _influence?"

Karen sputters in fury. "I beg your pardon?"

My mother rolls her eyes again, looking exasperated. "You're the poster child for teen pregnancy in this town. Perhaps Brooke has been spending too much time around you. And you," she turns on her heel and points accusingly at Lucas in the other room. "You _filthy _delinquent, you impregnated my only daughter!"

Lucas looks startled and stares wide-eyed at her. "W-what?" he asks, looking to me. "You told her?"

My mother scoffs and turns back to me. "No, she didn't. I accidentally overheard a conversation regarding this embarrassing mistake," gesturing to my stomach. She glares at me again and I feel myself shrink under her gaze. "I feel we've wasted enough time here." Stalking over to the kitchen door and flinging it open, she tosses her hair back over her shoulder. Glaring back at me once more, she meets my anxious gaze and breaks my heart in her scary-calm voice. "You're no daughter of mine." Her eyes are hard and piercing. "Richard, come on." My father follows out after her, waving good-bye to me and nodding to Karen.

She's never outright disowned me. I mean, sure, she's been a shit mother to me over the years, but she's never just…given up. I've never felt like I _really_ wasn't her daughter before. But this, this feels final and binding and sincere. It hurts and I want to cry and scream and chase after her, tugging her back and making her see that it's still me, I'm still her daughter I haven't changed I'm just growing up please come back! but I can't. I'm rooted to the spot, and I've lost my voice. My mother doesn't come back.

The slamming door snaps me out of my shock and I drop to my knees, tears pouring down my cheeks and onto my lips. They drip off my chin and stain my trousers. Wrapping my arms tightly around my torso, I don't even bother to try and stifle the heaving sobs wracking my body as my mother's disappointed words hit me over and over again. They ring violently in my ears, _You're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine you're no daughter of mine_.

My heart breaks a million times, shattering splintering piercing my chest my lungs I can't breathe and the tears keep falling. I might be drowning in them. I might be drowning.

I find I don't mind.

* * *

><p><em>writing Victoria was surprisingly fun. being a bitch seems like a blast, hey? SO i know i said last time 'oh lalala this is the part where you find out if the baby is a boy or a girl' but i LIED. it didn't fit, so neeeext chapter? next chapter. dreamy.<em>

_also next chapter is gonna be not so angsty, hopefully._

_to you faithful reviewers, keep that business up, friends. it makes me smile widely and sincerely._

_see you next chapter! LOVE JASPER._


	8. Chapter 8

_hey team. sorry about the wait...I didn't realise so much time had passed! but real-life got in the way (as usual) and suddenly a bunch of days had gone by. I hope this chapter makes up for it? it's a bit dark in places, but hey. maybe you're into that sort of thing._

_this chapter is Brooke dealing with the attack, blah blah blah. I also felt the need to include her grandfather, George, because I had an amazing father-figure that more than made up for a less than stellar father, and I felt he needed to be honoured in some way. so here comes George Montgomery, in honour of my George._

_sorry about the bloody novel of an author's note...read on, reading readers! and review please :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Part 8.<strong>

I can pinpoint the day my mother became indifferent.

I was five, and my mother was having her parents over for dinner for my birthday. My father was coming home from one of his many business trips and he and Victoria still looked at each other with stars in their eyes. I was happy and tiny and carefree. My mother dressed me in nice dresses and tied my hair up in ribbons and held my hand as we walked through the streets of Tree Hill. And my grandparents were my favourite people in the world.

My mother's father was a stern man with a thick moustache and hard blue eyes that looked liked chips of ice. He was a difficult man to please, and always had to get the last word in. My mother had spent her whole life trying to please him. But every time he came over, he'd sit in the big red wing-backed chair and light one of his smelly cigars, taking three long pulls before exhaling and patting his knee. He'd smile, and his whole face would transform, the chips of ice melting into calm pools and his stern expression turning kind.

"Come up here, darling," he'd say to me, and I'd grin and crawl into his lap. Every time, I'd reach for his cigar and he would hold it just out of my reach and laugh a deep, throaty laugh. "You're clearly my granddaughter," he'd chuckle, patting my head and placing the cigar into the ashtray next to the chair.

I'd smile my dimpled smile and say, "of course I am, Grampa, who else would I be?"

My mother would watch us with a small smile and my father would come up behind her and wrap his long arms around her. He'd kiss her temple. A pretty blush would colour her cheeks. Then we'd all sit down to dinner and laugh and smile and be a real family. My grandmother would compliment the chef on "a delicious meal fit for royalty," and her dainty hands would dab at her mouth with her serviette. My grandfather would smile like a sunrise and she'd grin back surreptitiously, and everything was wonderful.

That birthday dinner was an important one. I was turning five, and my grandfather said that five was a very important age for a Montgomery. I looked at him confused and told him "but Grampa I'm a Davis don't you know my name?" and he shook his head softly "now now, darling Brooke, you may be a Davis in name, but you're a Montgomery at heart" and he ruffled my hair and tweaked my nose. "Just like me."

Five was an important age. It meant that I got to sit at the head of the table, and after dinner my grandfather and grandmother would give me something that had been passed down the Montgomery line since before anyone could remember. I was so excited; I loved getting presents, and my grandparents always gave great ones. So the night of my birthday dinner with my mother's parents was greatly anticipated.

"Brooke, sweetie, come down here so I can do your hair!"

I hopped off my bed and raced down the spiral stairs, my dark hair flying behind me. Skidding to a stop outside my mother's bedroom, I stood in the doorway and watched her before she noticed me. I liked to do this a lot, because it meant I got to see a different side to Victoria Davis: mother. In moments like these, she was just another girl getting ready for dinner, combing her dark hair out in front of her vanity and putting the finishing touches on her make-up.

She caught my eye in the mirror and a small smile tugged at her lips. She was trying to be stern, though, so she fought against it. "Come on, Brooke, they'll be here any minute."

I walked into her room and crawled onto her lap, careful not to wrinkle her pretty dress too badly. She repositioned me so I was facing the mirror and started pulling my hair back into a plait, her fingers working deftly. I loved it when she did my hair. I watched her carefully in the mirror and giggled at the look of concentration on her face. Her tongue was even poking out a little.

Looking up from my hair, she let a grin show on her face. "What's so funny, bugaboo?"

My grandfather gave me that nickname, because I was always popping up from behind things trying to scare him. I giggled again and shrugged, my dimples indenting deeply. She shook her head and chuckled under her breath.

"All done."

I grinned gleefully, finally free, and hopped off her lap. She caught me before I raced out the door and pressed a kiss to my hair. "Happy birthday, Brooke," she whispered, before shooing me off to answer the door.

Racing down the hall to the heavy front door, I could barely contain my excitement. My father was supposed to be getting in any minute from a flight, and I couldn't wait to see him. Sometimes he'd bring me back little trinkets from wherever he'd gone off to. Sometimes, he'd even wrap his arms tightly around me and spin me around. I was desperately hoping for the latter.

Finally reaching the door, I stood on my tiptoes and turned the brass handle, holding my breath. My father wasn't on the other side, but my grandparents were. I squealed with delight and threw myself into my grandfather's legs, pressing my face to his knees. He patted my back and tugged my ponytail and my grandmother chuckled and rubbed my shoulder.

"I heard it's somebody's birthday," she said, furrowing her brow. "I'm not sure whose, though…hmm, George, do you know?"

And my grandfather tapped his chin and twirled his moustache and looked down at me with a look of bewilderment. "Why, I don't believe I do, Ella. Whoever could it be?"

And I giggled and squealed and poked at his stomach, "it's me Grampa it's my birthday don't you know?"

He smacked a hand to his forehead, "Of course, of course, it's my bugaboo's birthday!" Then he reached down and picked me up, twirling me around like I had hoped my father would.

"Happy birthday, darling," my grandmother said, kissing my cheek. "Where's your mother?"

"In her room, she was painting her face." I shrug and turn on my heel, wrapping my five-year-old fingers around my grandfather's thumb and pulling him with me.

The dinner table was set beautifully, decorated in my favourite colours. My mother had made sure the ribbon in my hair matched the decorations, and I was thrilled when my grandfather noticed. My grandmother complimented my dress and my grandfather winked at me when I thanked her.

"So, Victoria, where's that husband of yours?" my grandfather asked as Rosa, our maid, poured more brandy into his glass. I had been wondering that, too. Glancing at my mother, I was confused to see she looked embarrassed.

"He's…" she stopped and looked at me. Her eyes were sparkly. "I'm sorry, darling, he's not coming."

Being five, everything is a huge deal. To hear my father wasn't going to be there for my birthday was heartbreaking, and I felt my bottom lip begin to quiver. "W-why not?"

Sighing, my mother fiddled with her napkin. "He got caught up with some business, Brooke. I'm so sorry."

My eyes were stinging and my stomach felt like it was falling. "Did I do something wrong?" I was always worried I did something wrong when my father was concerned, because he never looked at me the way Dan looked at Nathan.

My grandfather placed a large hand on my shoulder and told me, "No, bugaboo, you didn't do anything wrong. Your father just doesn't appreciate a good thing."

My mother's head snapped up at this and her eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean, dad?" She looked very angry. I wiped at my eyes and tried to stop crying.

"You know what that's supposed to mean, Victoria," he said lowly, giving her his stern look that he never wore with me. "His only child is turning five today, and where is he? Off in a jet plane with that secretary of his."

My mother gasped and my grandmother looked down at her plate. I watched my mother and grandfather curiously, wondering what a secretary was.

"I told you, he was delayed with business," her voice was very quiet and her eyes were sparkling again.

My grandfather snorted. "Please, Victoria, that excuse is getting tired. Here we are, on my Brooke's fifth birthday, and that scoundrel can't even be bothered to call. How many times do I have to tell you, you two are too good for him?"

I didn't understand, because I thought my father and my mother were perfect together. When he was here, he hugged her and kissed her cheek and told her stories. And sometimes he'd let me sit on his lap as he read the paper, but only if I didn't crumple the pages or squirm. We were all good for each other.

"Don't say these things, dad," my mother whispered again, her sparkling blue eyes darting to my face and back to his. "It's Brooke's birthday, can't we try and celebrate?"

"I'm five," I piped up, peeking up at his austere face and holding up five fingers. My grandmother sent me a smile and nodded.

"Yes, you are, darling. And you remember what your grandfather said, don't you?" I nodded eagerly and she smiled again. "Five is a big number for us Montgomerys."

"I'm five!" The argument between my mother and father was forgotten, for the moment, as thoughts of my special present filled my five-year-old mind.

My grandfather chuckled and tweaked my nose. "You certainly are, bugaboo. Now, do you want your present now, or after dinner?"

"Now now now! Please Grampa, can I have it now?"

Smiling at my squeaky voice, he nodded. "Of course, Brooke. Close your eyes."

I did as he said, trying my hardest not to peek. My grandmother saw me crack an eye open and she placed her hand over my eyes, causing me to blush. My grandfather was taking forever, and I was bouncing up and down in my seat. I could hear my mother sniffle softly, but I didn't think much of it.

"Alright, Brooke, open your eyes."

The box was dark blue and very soft. I stroked it in wonder, marveling at the feel of it. My grandfather chuckled his deep chuckle and guided my fingers to the clasp on the side. "The gift is inside, darling."

He helped me open it, and inside was a delicate silver chain with a small pendant. Gently, he picked it up and held it in front of me, smiling again as my eyes grew wide. The pendant was a swallow, its wings spread wide. The eyes were little tiny emeralds. I was mesmerized.

"Do you like it, bug?" my grandmother wanted to know, watching me with an anxious look on her face. I tore my eyes away from the tiny bird and nodded energetically.

"It' so pretty!" I exclaimed, reaching a small hand out to touch it. "It's mine?"

"Of course." My grandfather told me to turn around, and he fixed the chain around my neck. It was a little long, dangling down my chest, but my grandmother nodded her approval so I knew it was fine.

"You look perfect, Brooke," she told me, and I grinned widely and fingered the delicate chain. The fact that my father had forgotten my birthday was temporarily forgotten.

By the end of the night, I was very tired. My grandfather noticed me nodding off in his lap, so he told my mother he would take me to bed. She didn't look at him or say anything, so he picked me up and carried me upstairs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my cheek into his shoulder. He always smelled like peppermint and cigar smoke.

He untied my hair and tucked me under the covers, kissing my forehead. His moustache tickled and I giggled. "Goodnight, bugaboo," he whispered, "happy birthday."

I peeked up at him through my lashes and gave a sleepy grin. "Goodnight, Grampa." Ruffling my hair, he stood to leave, but I still had some questions. "Grampa? Why didn't Daddy come?"

My grandfather stiffened and sighed heavily. Sitting back on my bed, he patted my knee. "Your father is what I like to call 'ungrateful.' He doesn't realise how wonderful his family is, and that's why he's always away when he should be home."

I nodded slowly, even though I didn't understand. "He loves me, right?"

It made me nervous when my grandfather didn't answer right away. His face turned down, and he sighed again before answering my five-year-old question. "In his own way, I think your father loves you. But not in the way he should. Not as much as he should."

I nodded again, starting to understand. "You love me, right, Grampa?"

He didn't hesitate, and that made me feel better. "I love you more than all the fish in the ocean and all the animals on earth. I love you more than all the stars in the sky."

I had one of the best sleeps of my life that night. But the next day, everything changed and it broke my five-year-old heart.

My father finally came home from his business trip. He apologised to me and even hugged me, patting the top of my head as he got up to hug my mother. He whispered something to her, and she shook her head and swatted him away. Frowning, he tugged her back into his arms. Eventually she gave in, her eyes sparkly again, and I went off to the park with Nathan and Deb.

When I came home from playing house and tag and hide-and-seek, the house was shaking from the shouts inside. Deb's forehead creased and she tightened her hold on my hand, inviting me over for dinner at her house. I nodded and gave Nathan a dimpled grin, not understanding that the whole dynamic of my family was changing right then, behind the red door.

The phone rang, and Deb told me I was having a sleepover! Nathan and I high-fived and raced off to his room to make our bed-fort, both of us missing the look of concern flashing across Deb's face. We spent the rest of the night playing and watching Disney movies and eating popcorn, and after Deb tucked us into bed, we stayed up later and played some more. Nathan told me how he was going to become the best basketball player ever, and I told him how I would be famous and beautiful and happy.

The next morning, Deb made us pancakes before taking me back to my house. I thanked her for having me and waved good-bye to Nathan before opening the door and shouting a hello to my mother and father. No one replied right away, so I pulled off my trainers and ventured into the house, calling for my mother.

Eventually she appeared, dabbing at her eyes and trying to smile. It didn't work and I hugged her tightly. "What's wrong, mommy?"

She sniffled and patted her hair down. "Your father and I got into a little fight, Brooke, nothing to worry about."

But it was something to worry about, because he left. And from that day on, my mother slowly began to retreat, until finally she regarded me as nothing but an impressive little trophy to show off to the country club girls. My father eventually returned, a year later, and he and my mother acted as if it had never happened. But I didn't get to sneak glimpses of Victoria Davis: Girl again, and my father never picked me up and twirled me when he came home from business. Everything changed, and my grandparents didn't visit again until I was eleven.

Curled up in my bed at Rachel's, hiding under the covers, I finger the swallow pendant and cry. It hurts that I can isolate the exact incident that made my mother resent me, or the moment my father truly stopped pretending to care. But I think it hurts more that, even though I know they never will, I keep hoping things will change. The dinner at Luke's was a futile and childish attempt to change the past, and I know it'll never work, because people like my parents can't change who they are, not after spending years and years perfecting it.

I sniffle again and hug my stomach tightly. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but who cares, right? My mother just disowned me, my father still doesn't give a damn, and I'm pregnant at seventeen. And I'm afraid to be alone because I'm convinced Pretend Derek will attack me again, and I can't stop feeling his dangerous hands around my throat as I try to stay conscious.

The click of a door has my heart leaping into my throat. I hold my breath and hug my stomach tighter, peeking at the closed door to my and Rachel's room anxiously. Footsteps up the stairs are getting louder and louder and my hands start to sweat, making the stitches burn. I wipe them gently on my shirt and try not to scream.

"What the hell are you doing up here, Preggers?"

Rachel comes bounding into our room, red hair flying. I let out the breath I've been holding and try to hide all traces of tears, but I'm too slow. Rachel's caught me, and a flash of concern crosses her face.

"Whoa whoa whoa, does Rachel Gattina have to smack a bitch?" She sits down on my bed and leans in close until I'm forced to look at her.

"No," I sniff, "I'm pretty sure Victoria could take you."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I'm not so sure, I don't think taking on the Crypt Keeper would be too hard." A watery chuckle slips past my lips and Rachel grins triumphantly. "There you go, Preggers."

I shake my head and nudge her shoulder with mine. "Whatever, slut." Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I blink hard and try for a real smile. It doesn't work, but we both pretend it does. "Whatcha doing?"

"Oh, y'know, the usual…" she shrugs, flicking her hair. "Are you hungry? I haven't even seen you since you crawled into your pity-lair this morning."

"A little. Not really. Sort of comes with the whole 'crushing heartbreak' thing, y'know?" I try to be all nonchalant and cool as a cucumber, but Rachel knows.

"Yeah, I know a bit about that," she allows, glancing out the window. I watch as her face drops momentarily before she picks it back up and flashes me a smile. "Get up, bitch. This wallowing is lame."

"I think I'm granted a little wallow-time. And besides," I continue, ignoring her scoff, "I've recently been attacked by a crazy internet stalker guy. Can't a girl get a little R and R around here?"

Rachel sighs heavily and flops back on my bed. "You're so useless, Davis. What's the use of having a pregnant friend if she won't be your designated driver?"

I flick her forehead and she sticks out her tongue, smirking. "Don't be a d-bag." Shifting, I rest my back against the headboard. "Wanna have a movie night?"

"That is painfully middle school, Davis," she informs me, but I can see a smile starting on her lips. I pout a bit, still slightly hindered by the bruising, and wait for her to give in. "Fine. Fine! Stop looking at me like that, it's creeping me out. You're like that sad dog commercial."

"Thank you, Rachel," I sing, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

"How is it possible that Bender is so hot? I mean, he looks homeless, but he's so _hot._" Rachel shook her head in amazement, her brown eyes wondering. I snort and flop my hands down.

"No idea. Maybe it's 'cause he's a badass."

Rachel considers this, her lips pursing in thought. "Agreed. He's a smokin' hot badass." Her grin turns suggestive. "Like Hot Nathan."

I groan and smack her arm. "Back off, Tubbs. He's _married. _You know, that thing with the life-long commitment?"

"Minor details," she shrugs, but backtracks when she sees the look I'm giving her. "Kidding. Naley for life, always and forever, love and kisses."

I smirk and pat her hand, "That's right. Naley forever." Leaning in close, I force her to meet my eyes as I narrow my gaze. "And don't you forget it, Gattina."

She's about to retort—probably make fun of me or something—when my phone starts to ring. I give her one last threatening glare before reaching for my phone on the table.

"Hey, Broody."

He sounds relieved that I picked up. "Hey, Pretty Girl, how are you? I haven't spoken to you in forever."

"I know; I'm doing better. Rachel and I are having a movie date, it's really cute." I wink at Rachel and she rolls her eyes, pushing my face away.

"Sounds saucy. Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need me." His voice is soft and so very Lucas, and I want him to come over immediately. But I have to learn to deal without him at some time, and the poor guy needs a break.

"I'll always need you," I tell him quietly, thankful that Rachel's decided to stop listening. She would have a field day. "But it's fine, I think it'll be good to have some girl time, lady to lady, y'know?"

Luke chuckles, "No, I don't know, but I can imagine? Either way, call if you need anything and I'll be there." He pauses and I can almost hear him brooding. "I love you, Brooke."

Smiling into the phone, I respond with an "I love you, too" before hanging up and flopping back into the couch. "So…" I turn to Rachel and raise my eyebrows, the stitches tugging slightly. "Sixteen Candles?"

My dreams are vivid and red. I toss and turn violently in my bed, the movements causing flames of pain to shoot through my body. The blankets are tangled around my legs and twisted around my torso and sweat is dripping onto my lips, making everything salty and uncertain. Flashes of hands, huge and looming reaching for skin tearing at clothes dripping in blood assault my eyes and I whimper, trying to shrug away from them. No one hears me and the hands come closer, growing larger and larger until they're all I can see and suddenly he's there with his sinister smile and empty eyes I'm trapped I'm lost I can feel his fingers tight against my throat and the blood dripping down my face into my mouth help me won't you help me but no one helps no one—

"Brooke! Jesus, Brooke, wake up!"

My eyes shoot open and I try frantically to get my bearings before anxiously untangling myself from the sheets and racing to the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the toilet. Sitting back on my haunches, I wipe my mouth and press a shaky hand into my eyes. I try to stop the images but they keep coming, Derek on Peyton, his fingers undoing her belt, his hands around my throat, his eyes so empty so dark his lips twisting into a dark snarl Peyton's whimpering body on the bed dark and empty dark and cold help me please he—

I lean heavily over the toilet and vomit again, tears falling down my cheeks and mingling with the sweat. Rachel's behind me rubbing my back and holding my hair. I try to regain control again, taking deep breaths and thinking of happy things, but it's all too much and I fall back, my shoulder blades hitting the side of the tub as my body heaves with sobs and horrible memories. Rachel stays with me, pressing a cool compress to the back of my neck and brushing my sweaty hair out of my eyes.

"It's okay, you're safe now, Brooke, you're safe," she whispers to me, her soft voice filling the dark bathroom. I want so badly to believe her, but I don't know if I can.

"You're not seriously going to school, Brooke," Rachel stares at me in disbelief as I come down the stairs in the morning.

"I'm seriously going to school, Rachel," I retort, brushing a hand over my stomach and straightening my shoulders.

Shaking her head, Rachel grabs my arm and starts pulling me back toward the stairs. "No way, Davis, no way in _hell. _Get your ass back in that bed, and don't leave it unless you're about to pee your pants, do you understand me?"

I tug my arm free and fold them across my chest. "Rachel, I'm going to school, okay? Last night was just a…minor setback. But now, see? I'm fine. And besides, " I continue, raising my voice to drown out her protests, "Calculus is kicking my ass. I can't miss any more school."

Rachel gives me a look that clearly says 'you dumb bitch, you are totally doing the complete opposite of what you should be,' but she remains quiet. I nod my head curtly and straighten out my shirt. Lifting my bag up higher on my shoulder, I fix my face into something resembling calm and collected before turning on my heel and heading to the door. I glance over my shoulder once, shouting, "are you coming?" toward Rachel.

The ride to school is quiet, except for the electronic beat of the music. Usually we sing along or make up stupid dance moves or whatever, but not today.

"So why didn't that broody bitch pick you up today?" Rachel asks, glancing quickly at me.

I smirk at the name and shrug. "He had practice this morning. I didn't want to get up a million years early, and besides, I'll see him at school." I keep my eyes on the passing town.

Rachel nods slowly, a crinkle forming between her brows. I can feel the air in the car get heavier, and know Rachel's about to do something out of character. "Look, Davis, I know this isn't what we do or whatever, but, y'know, if you want to talk about it at all, I'm…well, I'm here." She glances over at me again, but I'm still looking out the window. I nod slightly to let her know I heard her and the car ride goes back to silent.

Everyone stares at me when I step out of the car. It's unnerving and I feel my heart rate pick up dramatically. I'm worried I'm about to have a panic attack or something, my heart is beating so fast. Rachel sees my face and wraps a hand around my upper arm, leading me into the school quickly and glaring at all the onlookers. "Fucking animals," she mutters, glowering at some particularly eager freshmen. I want to, but I can't find the humour in the situation. Not yet.

Rachel leads me to the gym, and at first I'm confused. But then I see my Broody coming out of the locker rooms and for the first time since I talked to him on the phone I feel myself relax into something closer to normal.

"Go make out with Squints McBrood, and for God's sake, try not to cause a scene," she tells me, pushing me toward Luke. I stop and hug her quickly before meeting Luke halfway and wrapping my arms tightly around him.

"I missed you," I breathe into his chest, instantly feeling safer than I have in days. Lucas wraps his long arms around my shoulders and presses his cheek against my head.

"Missed you too, Pretty Girl," he murmurs, rocking us back and forth. I close my eyes and for a moment feel the kind of safe I did that time my grandfather told me he loved me more than the whole world.

"Have you seen Peyton?" I ask as we sit at our table at lunch. I'm trying desperately to ignore the stares and the whispering, but my hands still shake and my stomach is still in knots.

Lucas squeezes my bandaged hand gently and nods. "She went home, she couldn't handle all the staring." He presses a kiss to my knuckles and watches my face.

"Oh," I swallow, staring at a hole in the knee of his jeans.

"Do you want to go home, Brooke?" he asks me softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I shake my head softly, trying to regain control of my breathing. "I'm fine," I whisper. He knows I'm lying. He can feel me shaking.

"Come on, let's get you home," he murmurs, tugging me to my feet and wrapping a protective arm around my quivering shoulders.

It's dark and grey and cold. I can't see very well, and there's an acrid coppery smell burning my nose. My head throbs and I want to be home with Lucas, but instead I'm here in this…place. I wander further, passing nothing and going nowhere. My heart is racing and my stomach is clenching uncomfortably, but I'm not sure why, nor do I know where I am.

A crooked smirk and a flash of white and suddenly I'm in Peyton's room. She's on her bed, her shirt torn and her mouth bloody, and a dark angel is moving languidly above her. She whimpers and cries and her big hazel eyes meet mine through the dark and the grey and the vivid burning red.

"Help me," she mouths, her eyes pleading and broken. I try to answer back, but I have no air to form words. I can't breathe and my lungs are burning and I try to shout I try to scream but he's there with his hands and his empty eyes "you'll never see your baby" angry and hard, bloody and dark let me go please please but a grim chuckle and a broken scream and everything is black. Everything is gone.

"Peyton?" I choke out, but no one answers. I shudder and reach a hand out, trying to find purchase on something, anything.

"Peyton's not here, Brooke Davis." Dark and sinister and crooked, he looms out of the dark and the grey and his eyes are empty his eyes are holes. His hands are bloody.

"Peyton?" I ask again, my voice hoarse and barely there. His harsh bark of laughter echoes and I flinch.

"You were too late, Brooke. You left her with me, you left her alone, while you rode off into the sunset with your boy, with your Lucas. She's alone now, Brooke, and it's all thanks to you." He smiles widely, the lips spreading so far that it slowly takes over his face, splitting him and turning him inside out. Inside is dark and black and bare. "So, thank you, Brooke Davis."

I try to scream, but my mouth is full of blood, choking drowning filling my lungs pouring out my nose and mouth I try to shout her name I try to fight against the black but I can't and I'm so afraid I think I might be shaking I think I might be dying and she's all alone in this darkness in this blank space.

"Pretty Girl, please open your eyes," Lucas' voice breaks into the bleak and the grim and I open my eyes. Swirling oceans and I'm saved.

"Lucas?"

He looks relieved that I'm awake. "You were having a nightmare, Brooke," he tells me softly. I can hear the worry in his voice. "But you're okay now, alright? I promise." He presses his forehead against mine. "You and me and baby, we're all alright."

He's right. Me and him and baby, we're fine. We're cuddled together in this safe haven of blankets and locked doors and family. Pretend Derek has never breached these walls, and here we're safe and sound, together and warm. But Peyton is alone, all alone in her big looming house full of screams and blood and menacing smirks. Peyton is alone and she's not safe, she's not surrounded by smiles and warm hands and cups of tea. And I'm sitting here without her, while she runs scared and anxious and bruised. While she runs alone.

"Peyton shouldn't be alone, Lucas," I whisper. I can feel his eyelashes brush mine as he blinks slowly.

"I know, but she's not. She's got her brother."

"He's a marine, Lucas. He can't be here forever." I lace our fingers together and press a kiss to his thumb. "We need to help her. If she's anywhere near as scared as I am, she's an absolute mess. And she's alone."

Lucas nods against me and kisses my nose. "Okay, Pretty Girl, let's go, then."

Luke's car is calming, I find. It's so familiar and classic and reliable, and I love the way the leather seats give as I burrow down into them. Resting my forehead against the cool glass of the window, I turn and smile softly at Luke as he drives. He feels me looking and glances over at me, his ocean eyes endless and tender. Safe and warm.

Peyton's house used to be calming. It used to be full of life and memories and laughter. It used to be my home. Now it's a terrifying structure full of shouts and red and painful hands. I feel myself shrink as we pull up in front of it, tucking myself deep into the seat. Lucas notices my retraction and he grabs my hand.

"Come on, Brooke. Peyton needs someone right now," he says softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and helping me out of his car.

The walk up to the front door is petrifying. Each step feels like a million miles away from safe and warm and familiar. My breathing picks up and my hands shake in Luke's firm grip. I can feel my chest tighten.

"I'm scared," I admit, and I'm relieved when Lucas wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me to him.

Peyton doesn't answer her door. We knock and wait for a good ten minutes, but nothing happens. Frowning, I pull out my cell phone and dial the familiar number, and my frown deepens when I hear the ringtone sing through the thick door.

"She's home," I tell him, before hitting redial. She finally picks up and I'm startled to hear the pain and anxiety in one word. I hope I don't sound so scared.

"Hello?

"P. Sawyer, open your door," I demand. Her breathing noticeably changes, apparently getting easier.

"It's you pounding on my door?" she laughs gently, her voice sounding instantly less anxious. "Jesus, B. Davis, give me a heart attack, why don't you."

"Sorry," I say. She doesn't say anything back, but I can hear her breathing and her soft footsteps as she makes her way down the stairs. The door creaks open and Peyton offers a small smile, still on the phone.

"Hey," she greets, her eyes darting from me to Lucas and back again, before quickly scanning the yard behind us.

"Hey, Peyton," Lucas smiles. "We thought it would be better if you weren't alone right now."

Peyton's shoulders visibly relax as her lips spread into a smile. "I love you guys."

All three of us don't fit very well into Luke's double bed, but it's better than the alternative. Neither Peyton nor me want to be alone. The dreams and sounds that keep invading my mind are no doubt invading Peyton's too. And the dark thoughts that keep popping up are kept at bay with Lucas by my side.

Kissing him softly and curling into his side, I reach over and squeeze Peyton's hand. "Good night," I murmur to the room as a whole. Lucas kisses my forehead and Peyton links her pinky with mine. I know everything is far from over. I still have bruises and cuts and broken bones to heal. I still breathe quicker when a floorboard creaks. I still feel his hands around my throat. I still don't have a mother or a father, and I'm still pregnant at seventeen. But I'm not alone.

And hopefully, I'll never have to be. Me and baby and Lucas, we're a scared little family, but we're slowly getting better.

"Come on, Brooke, we don't want to be late for your very first check up, now do we?" Karen calls from the kitchen.

I groan and throw my hands up in frustration. "Where the _hell _are my shoes?" Lucas smirks at me from his place on his bed. I glare at him and frown. "A little help would be fantastic."

His smirk grows. "You're cute when you're flustered."

I stamp my foot. "Lucas Scott, get up off your ass and help me find my shoes, or so help me, I will make sure you _never _have sex again."

Lucas hops off the bed and gets down on his hands and knees, peeking under the bed. Moments later, he pulls out my shoes triumphantly. "Here you go, Princess," he smiles, motioning for me to sit down so he can put them on for me. I scowl but do as he says.

The car ride to the doctor's office is quiet. I'm nervous. Scratch that, I'm terrified. What if there's something wrong with baby? What if they missed something after the attack? What if all my stress has affected baby? I grip Lucas' hand tightly and stare blankly out the window.

"Brooke Davis?" I startle at the sound of my name being called and Karen pats my knee reassuringly.

"It'll be fine; Lucas and I will come in with you. You'll do fine."

I nod at her words and take a deep breath, my hands resting carefully over my stomach. Lucas follows behind me, a shaky hand at my back, and Karen follows behind Lucas. The doctor greets us all with a kind smile.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Young. You must be Brooke," she smiles at me, and it's surprisingly sincere.

"Hi," I say, my raspy voice even more so. Lucas presses his palm into the small of my back and I lean into him.

"And you are?" Doctor Young looks to Karen and Lucas.

Lucas squirms and wraps his arm tighter around my waist. "I'm Lucas…I'm the—the father." His voice is so small and nervous.

"I'm his mother," Karen says, holding out her hand for the doctor to shake. More kind smiles and understanding eyes. I like Doctor Young.

"Nice to meet all of you," she says. Her voice is soft and melodic. "So, Brooke, why don't you take a seat here, and we can get started?" She gestures to a cushy-looking table and I bite my lip awkwardly before heading over and sitting down. "Now, lean back, and try to relax, Brooke."

I do as she says and feel Lucas grab my hand, placing a soft kiss to my knuckles. I send him a grin and try to breathe normally.

"Alright, now, this will be a little cold…" Doctor Young says, before squirting some weird-looking blue jelly liquid onto my exposed belly and rubbing it over my stomach with something that resembles an electric shaver.

I shiver at the sensation and Karen pats my shoulder. "It's cold," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else, and Lucas laughs softly.

"She warned you," he reminds me, his breath warm on my ear. I roll my eyes at him and watch as Doctor Young searches my belly for baby.

I'm holding my breath, and I'm pretty sure Luke is, too. After a while of nothing, I glance nervously up at him before looking to Karen. She gives me a reassuring smile and pats my cheek, murmuring comfort.

A loud whump-whump fills the room and I feel my stomach leap. My grip on Lucas' hand tightens and my chest tightens. "Is that—" I start, and Doctor Young nods happily. "Wow." I look at Lucas and see a similar awestruck expression on his face. His eyes meet mine and incredible wonder and pride shine through his eyes.

"That's your baby," she says, a smile spreading her lips. "Now, from what I understand, they've already performed one ultrasound when you were in hospital being treated for injuries sustained in an attack. But, that was a little too early to conclusively tell the sex of the baby." I didn't know any of this. I guess I was still ptfo. Karen nods anyway and Doctor Young continues. "What I'm getting at is, do you want to know the sex of your baby, or do you want to be surprised?"

A giddy smile tugs at my lips and I turn excitedly to meet Luke's ocean eyes. "Do you wanna know?" I ask him, ready to burst with enthusiasm. Lucas meets my gaze with an amused grin and kisses my forehead.

"If you do, I do," he tells me, and I squeal in delight before turning quickly back to the doctor.

"Yes please, please, please!" I tell her. She laughs softly before nodding and beginning to rub the weird wand-thingy over my stomach again.

"See here?" she gestures to a peanut-looking thing on the monitor. "That's your baby's head. And these," she points, "are your baby's feet. This is a hand." Karen's gotten all teary, and Luke can't stop staring wide-eyed at the screen. I've never felt more content. "And I'm pleased to inform you, you'll be welcoming a darling baby boy into the world in about five and a half months."

I think my heart stops. And then kickstarts double-time. "A—a boy?" I manage to get out. Luke is still staring at the screen. His ocean eyes are watery. "We're having a boy?"

Doctor Young nods and Karen starts crying for real. I can't believe I'm having a baby boy.

"Did you hear that, Broody? We're having a boy!" I laugh, kissing him hard and laughing again as we pull apart. "A boy!"

"I can't believe it…" Lucas says, a huge smile breaking across his face. "I'm gonna be a dad. To our son." He kisses me soundly again, resting his forehead against mine. "We have a son."

I nod against him, unable to hold in another amazed laugh. "We certainly do."

"Congratulations, you two." Doctor Young gets up to give us some privacy.

Karen's still crying and staring at the screen. I don't think I've ever been so happy so carefree so content. Lucas and I have a son. He's going to change the world. He's going to fill lives with magic and warmth and happiness, and I can't wait to meet him.

For the first time since the attack, I feel like everything might _actually _be okay. I feel like I won't be checking over my shoulder constantly, or flinching when people try to hug me. I feel like I might be able to breathe again, because the sound of my _son's _heartbeat is filling my ears and I think I might explode. Me and Lucas and baby are so gonna be fine. Five months can't pass fast enough. I can't wait to meet him. And Brangelina better watch out, 'cause our baby is gonna be hot shit.

My fingers absently toy the delicate chain still around my neck. The swallow is kept safe underneath my shirt and I can't help but feel a pang of remorse as I realise that baby will never meet the first man that ever loved me as much as I'm gonna love him.

* * *

><p><em>sooo? what did you all think? I finally revealed the baby's sex (sorry about the lies). I always thought they'd be great parents to a son, with a wild streak like Brooke coupled with an intense love of literature like Lucas. he'd be so badass! <em>

_this story shouldn't be too much longer, but hey? who knows, I've been known to LIE in these things, haven't I?_

_I hope you enjoyed._

_looooooooove Jasper :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_sorry about the time...it all just passes so fast. chapter nine, yo._

* * *

><p><strong>Part 9.<strong>

Just as I've done plenty of times before, I'm sitting at Haley's thinking about Broody and baby and how my whole life got turned upside down in a matter of months. From losing the boy and the best friend, to accidentally taking on the biggest responsibility of my life, to finding the boy, to finding the friend, to nearly loosing it all again in a viciously haunted night, I can barely keep up. It honestly makes my head hurt to think about everything and all of it and nothing at all. Where would I be if only one pivotal moment happened differently?

What if Lucas hadn't told me he wanted to be with me? Would I still be pregnant? Would I still be carrying this wonderful mixture of my Broody and myself, looking forward to meeting him and thinking of all the ways I'm going to spoil him? Would I still be trying to pick Godparents? Would I still be worrying about all the things that could go wrong in the time from now to delivery? Would I be wishing my grandfather would get to meet him? Or would I be sad and lonely and dark, drinking myself into oblivion and forgetting my own name? I'm unbelievably grateful I don't have to find out.

So deep in my thoughts, I only tune into Haley's words about halfway through.

"…you doing for prom?" Haley glances at me from over her counter, still with one eye on the cookies she's making.

Pulling myself from my roundabout rhetoric thoughts, I grin and shrug, tugging on a strand of hair. Prom is coming up, and I'm pretty excited for it, even though it means everything's almost over. "I guess I'm going with Luke. Although, he hasn't asked me yet. Which is kinda something I should be worried about, right? I mean, who doesn't ask their pregnant girlfriend to prom?" I run an anxious hand through my hair and turn to Haley with worried eyes. This is urgent business. "You'd be a bit anxious if _you _were preggo and Hot Shot didn't ask you, wouldn't you? Am I being totally batshit or is this legit?"

She smiles and sticks her finger in the batter. "I think it's perfectly acceptable for a hormonal pregnant lady to go a little off the deep-end, sure," she licks her finger clean and dips it in again.

"So I'm not being crazy? I mean, he is taking me, right? Has he said anything to you?"

"Calm down, Brooke. Of course he's taking you." She offers me some batter. I try to say no, because I'm already packing on the pounds with little baby boy in my belly (Lucas says I'm being silly), but come on. It's cookie dough, and I'm pregnant. Actually, the cravings aren't too bad. I made Lucas go get me pickles and chocolate ice cream one night, but that's just because I wanted to see what all the hype was about among the pregnant folk. Not surprisingly, it was gross.

"That's delicious, Tutor Girl," I reach for more and she smacks my hand away. She gets violent when cooking, apparently. She's most likely honed her survival skills living with a beast like Nathan.

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to her dough and continues, "Nathan and I were thinking of all of us getting a limo, sort of like a last hurrah. We thought you and Luke could come, with Mouth and Peyton and Skills, even Rachel. The whole gang type thing."

I had been hoping our whole team could get together for one last night of highschool. If I'm being completely candid and not trying to pretend to be awesome and unafraid, I'm fucking terrified. But I'm not, so I smile and say, "That sounds kinda boss. I'm down, and I'm sure my AWOL prom date is too. Can I have some more?" Since my 'extensive contusions' healed, I've been taking advantage of the return of my above-average pout. Haley relents and hands me the spoon.

Haley smirks as I lick the spoon, before her face turns more serious. "Is Peyton going with anyone?"

My stomach swoops and I put the spoon down, frowning. Sure, the attack happened over a month ago, but she, Luke and I slept in the same bed for a good three weeks after that. She finally got up the courage to get back to her own bed, but that was only after Real (and kind of super great) Derek kicked her ass into gear. To be honest, she hasn't been doing too well. I'm worried about her.

Peyton doesn't bounce back from things too easily. After her mum passed, she didn't get back into the swing of real life for a really long time. She sort of retreats into this little P. Sawyer bubble of pain and sulking, and she doesn't come out until someone forcibly pulls her from it. I was there to tug and fight when her mum died, but this time I was trapped, too. I haven't been able to make sure she eats and goes to school and sleeps, because I've been so busy making sure _I _do all those things. And believe me, the only reason I'm not curled into the fetal position terrified he's going to come back is sitting tight in my belly.

"I, uh…I don't know. She hasn't said anything to me," I tell Haley, looking down at the counter-top. It's a worn Formica counter. My finger smooths over dents and markings like Braille. I hope Peyton's okay. I used to be able to read her like a really depressing book. But now, she's retreating. I'm not sure how to stop it, this time.

Haley nods and takes the mixing spoon back. "Yeah, me neither. She doesn't seem to be taking her brother leaving too well, hmm?"

"No," absently, non-committal, "she doesn't."

"He was good for her, wasn't he? She's lost so much of her family, it must've been nice to have another piece." Haley looks pensive, no doubt thinking of her behemoth of a family. I nod and trace, wondering what it would be like to have a family that big. Or a sibling. Or a family in general. I think it'd be warm.

"Brooke. Bro-oke."

I snap my head up and blink. "Yeah?"

Giving me a look, she says, "Did you not hear me at all?"

"No, sorry, I spaced. What?" I say, shaking my head.

"I said, maybe we should call Peyton, get her over here and out of that toxic house." She's still giving me a look and it always makes me nervous when Tutor Girl gives me looks. It's always followed by personal questions.

So I decide to head her off. Bouncing from my chair, I snag the spoon and twirl around. "Sounds good, I'll call her." I speed-walk away before she can keep analyzing me, grabbing the phone and plopping down on the couch. Peyton's familiar number beeps into the phone and I press it to my ear, waiting for her morose voice to greet me.

It rings and rings. I get impatient so I begin tapping out a beat with my fingers on the couch cushion. Haley shoots me an annoyed look and I sit on my hand to stop. Peyton still hasn't picked up. Rolling my eyes, I dial her cell and wait.

"Come on, P. Sawyer, pick up," I mutter, scratching at the scar on my eyebrow. It still itches from time to time, even though it's fully healed. My hands do that, too. Dr Kensington said it was normal when I went to him in a panic.

"Hey, B. Davis."

"Finally!" I exclaim, sitting up straight. "God, P. Sawyer, could you have taken any longer?"

I can feel her rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Brooke, I was busy."

"Doing what, sulking and drawing sad pictures? Come on, Peyt, get up off your ass and come to Tutor Girl's. She's baking cookies and I need help eating them all." I wink at Haley and she sighs. She knows I'm not kidding.

Peyton hesitates on her end and I ready myself for the inevitable 'oh I would but I have to wash my hair' or any number of similarly lame brush-offs.

"I would, Brooke, you know I would, but…" I can hear her breathing stutter as a knock echoes through her house. "Someone's…someone's at the door," She sounds scared. I grip the phone tighter. My palm stings briefly. (Ghosts tracing my palm.)

"Stay on the line, Peyt," I tell her. She doesn't say anything back, but I can hear her breathing still. We used to do this when we were younger, stay on the line until one of us fell asleep. Her breaths are getting heavier and more panicked. "I'm here, P. Sawyer, okay?"

After the Pretend Derek Extravaganza, knocking has become taboo around her. I'm still a bit jumpy, but I'm nothing like Peyton. She freezes and starts panicking and won't calm down until she knows it's not him. Sometimes this can take forever. Cameras, too, but that one's way understandable. Actually, all of it is understandable. I just didn't think she'd still be so unadjusted so long after the attack.

"I'm at the door," she whispers to me.

I nod, even though she can't see. "Who's there, Peyton?"

I can hear shuffling and adjusting and then a huge sigh of relief. She puts the phone back to her ear and breathes out, "Lucas."

I know he said he loves me. I know he's sticking with me and baby. I know he has only platonic feelings for Peyton Sawyer. But seriously, when my _best friend _says my boyfriend's name so breathily and relieved and so _lovingly_, it makes me a little uncomfortable. And by a little, I mean hell no that is super not on. Which, I know, is stupid, because Peyton's not going to do anything about it, and Lucas sure isn't going to hop on the sad girl bandwagon, but still. It's uncomfortable.

"Lucas is there?" I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes," she breathes out. I hear the door being opened and then a cheery, "Hey, Luke!" before it gets muffled and crackly. I can assume they're hugging. "What are you doing here?"

I'd like to know that, too. I have some serious prom questions to ask _my _Broody, and instead he's making house calls to Peyton.

"Just checking on you. I wasn't sure how you'd been doing since you left my house." I can hear his squint. It almost makes me smile.

Peyton loves this. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Luke, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." She sounds happy; me, on the other hand, I'm worried I'm about to turn into Jealousy Girl.

"You're my friend, I was worried." Of course, the hero complex residing in Lucas Scott. Maybe one day he'll get a handle on that. "And besides, Brooke's still having trouble sleeping so I thought maybe you had the same problem."

"Oh, yeah, no I'm fine." Her voice has lost some of its initial undying cheer. Despite the fact that she said she would try and get over Luke and that she was sorry and blah blah blah, she still seems irrationally upset over the mention of me. Sometimes I just can't figure her out.

Luke pauses, and I can fully picture him squinting and figuring. "Okay, well, I better go. I told Nate I'd shoot some hoops." More muffling, more hugging. "Bye, Peyton."

There's silence on the other end after the door closes. I almost think she's forgotten me until she suddenly speaks. "I'll be there soon." She's back to my Peyton, morose and chronically pessimistic. What a strange phenomenon.

I hang up and stare at the phone. There's still a knot of unease in my stomach over the Lucas/Peyton thing, though it's completely unwarranted. I trust Lucas. (Peyton is another story, the chapters still unwritten.)

"Everything alright?" Haley's come to sit on the arm of the couch while I was staring at the phone. She reaches and takes it from me, before touching my shoulder. "Brooke?"

"Yeah," I shake myself, "Yeah, everything's fine. Peyton says she's on her way."

Haley nods slowly, watching me before putting the phone back. "Okay, cool. Nathan's at the Rivercourt, so our cookies should be safe from his endless pit of a stomach."

I smile and push the Peyton thoughts out of my cluttered mind. I can deal with that later, I'm sure. "Yeah, Lucas said he was going to play basketball with him there." I don't tell Haley that I know this because I overheard him telling Peyton. "Do those boys ever quit?"

"No."

It's true. If Nathan's not with Haley, he's with basketball. When we were kids, he used to carry this stupid old basketball around with him everywhere we went. The constant thud against the pavement gave me headaches and I'd beg him to stop, even just for a minute, and he'd smirk and say, "No can do, Brookie-Bear. I can't stop if I ever wanna be in the NBA. I told you, I'm going to be the best point guard anyone's ever seen." And he'd ruffle my hair and knock my shoulder and bounce that goddamned ball.

"Your first little Hot Shot offspring is going to be a basketball," I inform her. She gasps and smacks my knee.

"Don't say such things, Brooke Davis! Any offspring of ours will be beautiful!"

"Your lame kids will have nothing on baby here. He's going to be hotter than Brangelina's baby. Mouth told me so." I rub my belly and nod knowingly, finding myself unable to hold back a smile while thinking about him. Haley watches me with warm eyes and places a gentle hand on my stomach.

"I hope baby has your dimples. How cute would that be, hey?" Her thumb smooths over my belly and she leans in close. "Hi, baby, it's your aunt Haley," glancing up at me with pink-tinged cheeks, she shrugs. "I want him to know who I am," she explains.

I frown and flick her forehead. "Of _course _he'll know who you are, Tutor Girl. Jeez, you think I'm gonna hermit him away as soon as he's born?" She rubs her forehead and scowls as I continue, "Besides, I'm not going to go through the huge ordeal of pushing a _human _out of my va-jay-jay just to hide him away. People are going to know Baby Davis…Scott."

"Nice, Brooke," she rolls her eyes and rubs my belly again, getting up to check on her cookies baking away. "Just know, I'm going to hold you to that."

The door swings open and Peyton trudges in, her signature leather jacket slung over her bonygirl shoulders.

"Hello sunshine!" I call from the couch, waving enthusiastically. She smirks at me and gives a head nod. The kitchen smells like cookies and she makes her way in, sitting on a stool and watching Haley pull them out of the oven. She hasn't spoken yet, and her brow is furrowed.

"Hey, Peyt," Haley calls over her shoulder, placing the hot tray on the top of the oven and pulling off her oven mitt. "Cookies are ready!"

I jump off the couch and scuttle into the kitchen, reaching for a cookie. The tray and cookies are really hot and I pull my fingers back as they burn. "Goddamn, Haley, these are so hot," I complain, sucking on my fingers. She sighs and turns on the tap, letting the water run over the red skin.

"I didn't mean right this second, I just meant they were cooked. I just pulled them out of the oven, Brooke, what were you expecting?" She sounds like a mum and I grin, nudging my hip against hers. She shakes her head.

"So, Peyton," I start, still with my fingers under the tap, "What are you doing for prom?"

Peyton tears her gaze from my stomach and meets my eyes. "Oh…uh…I'm not…" she's stalling. I huff and turn the tap off.

"Don't be ridiculous and say something stupid like 'oh I don't think I'm coming to prom,' Peyton. We've been talking about this since we were eight." As I talk, I notice little things about her. Like how every line in her face turns down, or how there's an awareness about her that wasn't there before. Like the unrestrained anxiety swarming her eyes and the nervous tap of her fingers against her leg. It turns out I can still read her; I just don't like the story anymore.

She looks down at her lap and tugs on a curl. "I just don't really…I don't feel like it, Brooke." Her voice is small and shaky and so far from the fiery girl from before it makes my stomach ache. I don't know where that girl's gone. (Was she one of the faces on the milk cartons?)

Haley sits down next to her and places a Tutor Girl hand on her knee, saying softly, "Peyton, you can't let one deluded individual change you like this."

I'm still reeling from the loss of my spirited best friend. How long has she been gone? While we slept together on Lucas' bed, was she gone then? Or was it before, when his hands were around my throat, tugging at her trousers? Or maybe, horrifyingly, was it even before, when we were strangers and my throat burned every time I saw her?

Her curly head shakes in a defeated sort of way. "He already has, Haley." A hit to the stomach, a fist to the ribs. "I'm scared, and I'm tired, and I'm changed. He's won, okay?" Kicked in the spine, falling to the floor.

I'm speaking before I even have a chance to filter my words. Maybe I'll say something I'll regret. Maybe I won't. "Are you fucking _kidding _me, Peyton?" Her head snaps up, her big hazel eyes wide and confused. Hurt and lost. But I'm angry, so I don't quite care. "'He's _won?' _When did you become such a submissive bitch?" She flinches, a jerky sort of twitch, but I continue, my tongue coated in anger, "What happened to the girl that wouldn't take shit from _any_one? What happened to her, huh? 'Cause _that _P. Sawyer would look Pretend Derek right in the eye and kick him in the fucking balls, Peyton. She wouldn't lie down and accept this. She would fight and kick and _scream _until she was back on top. What happened to her?"

Haley is staring at me wide-eyed. Peyton just looks sad and confused and injured. To my absolute horror, she's not even going to fight back. This is definitely not my P. Sawyer, and it makes me sick to realise this.

"I don't know," she whispers, hanging her head dejectedly. Her curls obscure her face. I don't like that.

"Bullshit, you don't know, Peyton. You're just too scared to find her. Get over it. So your life is a mess right now? Clean it up. Get up, brush yourself off, and figure out a way to fix it! 'Cause this? This pity-fest for one that you've got going on? I'm not into it, Peyton, and you need to get up off your bony ass and fight back," I'm breathing heavily and trying not to yell at her, trying not to physically pick her up off her stool. "There's not always going to be someone there to save you, Peyton, so you sure as hell better learn how to save yourself."

A tear falls from her sadgirl eyes and streaks down her cheek, dripping off her chin. I watch it hit the counter and splatter. She's still not fighting. My anger is slowly churning into nausea at the apparent loss of my P. Sawyer. "Where's the girl I used to know?" I ask her softly, ignoring the fact that my voice breaks. More tears streak down her face. She stares at me and flounders for an answer, her heart breaking more and more as she realises she doesn't have one. I can see it on her face, in her eyes and on her lips.

"Brooke…" Haley mutters, giving me a look that says 'lay off.' I ignore her and keep my eyes on this Imposter Peyton, trying to find traces of the girl I used to know. I can't find any, not in the bracketed mouth or the wrinkled brow or the curve of her jaw. Not in the dripping tears and certainly not in the anxious and darting eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, wiping haphazardly at her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Brooke."

I curl my hand into a fist, trying to keep hold of something, anything. "I don't want your apologies, Peyton. I don't want your useless words. They're just _words_; I don't need those. I need the girl that slapped Markus Harding across the face when he called me a slut in ninth grade. I need the girl that drew her mum a birthday card every year after she died, just so she would know she wasn't forgotten. I need to girl that held my hand when my dad would leave," I'm shouting now, my raspy voice raw and urgent. Peyton flinches at my words, at the reminder of the girl she used to be. "I don't need your apologies, Peyton. My P. Sawyer never apologised for who she was."

She's fully crying now, trying to breathe normally as consonants and vowels, adverbs and nouns slam into her ears. Her shoulders shake under her dead mother's leather jacket and she rubs a thin artist's hand over her brow, hard, vicious. (As if she could peel back the skin and find the lost girl.) Tears streak and drip and she doesn't speak. I'm glad she understood. I don't want her words.

My fist is still clenched, even though I've nothing to hold onto anymore. Deep breaths, palms against eyes, stars and darkness. I shake my head out and grab my bag. "I have to go," I mutter, pushing out of the shaking kitchen and out the door. The fresh air is a relief against my too-hot skin. I can still hear Peyton crying through the door, on the other side of me.

The Rivercourt is becoming safe and familiar to me. Even the constant thud of the basketball is beginning to grow on me. I scuff the toe of my shoe in the dirt on the side of the court as I watch my two boys play. There's a certain grace to their movements, a feline quality to the arc of their arm or the fluidity of their jump. It's mesmerizing to watch, especially with two players as hot as the Scott brothers.

Nathan pulls back and leaps up, the line of his body elegant and straight as the ball leaves his hand and enters the net. Lucas groans and plops his hands onto his head. Smirking in that arrogant way of his, Nathan claps him on the shoulder. "Next time, big brother. Maybe it'll even be a challenge, hey?"

Lucas shakes his head at Nathan's teasing. He grabs the ball from where it settled and replies, "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Hot Shot." I smirk at the use of my nickname coming from Lucas' lips and wait for them to notice me standing alone. Lucas finally does, his head snapping toward me. A smile spreads across his lips.

He jogs over and hugs me. His long arms pull me into him and I squirm. "Lucas, you're all sweaty! Ugh." Finally breaking free, I shake my hands out and glare at him. He laughs and tugs my hair.

"Hey Pretty Girl," he coos, giving me that crooked grin.

I shake my head and link our pinkies. "You're still sweaty," I tell him.

"And you're still pretty," he retorts.

"Brookie-Bear!" Nathan calls, waving. "What are you doing here? Did Haley send you with cookies?"

I shrug and shake my head. "Sorry, Superstar, cookie-free. Just came by to see my two favourite boys," I wink and nudge his shoulder and he smiles at me. "But don't hug me, you're gross."

Feigning hurt, Nathan places a hand over his heart. "Love you too, Brooke."

I laugh, but even to me it sounds forced and insincere. Both my boys fix me with looks and I sigh, tightening my grip on Luke's hand. Before they ask, I say, "I sort of blew up at Peyton." It sounds so straightforward, like a simple argument between friends.

Nathan sighs and shakes his head. "You and Peyton," he says. "Now that's a conversation."

Luke gives him an elbow to the ribs and tucks a finger under my chin. "What happened, Cheery?" he wants to know. I don't want to be the one to tell him Peyton's gone, replaced with this imposter that is afraid and meek and wrong.

"We just…" I sigh again and run a hand through my hair. The sun shines across the water and glints in my eyes. If I want, I have an excuse for tears. Maybe. "She's not my P. Sawyer anymore, and I wanted to know where she went."

Nathan looks confused. Lucas just looks sad. "The attack changed her," he says softly. "It changed you, too, Brooke."

"I know that," I snap. He doesn't pull away, but his ocean eyes flash hurt. Sighing, I try again. "I know, Lucas, but I'm still me. You know, obnoxious, bossy, peppy," Nathan smirks and nods, "But Peyton is different. She's just…she's different." Shrugging, I focus on the reflecting sunlight, unsure if the pricks at the corner of my eyes are caused by the light or by the dark. "I don't know."

Nathan crosses his arms, his dark brows coming together. "She's bound to be different after everything she's been through, Brooke. I mean, she lost two mums and her 'brother' turned out to be a psycho." Bless his heart, Nathan is trying to understand, but I know he doesn't get it. He didn't know Peyton like I did.

I try to explain it anyway. "But the Peyton that lost her mum—twice—isn't the Peyton I just yelled at! She's not fighting back anymore, Nate." I can hear the desperation in my voice. My boys can, too.

"I'm sure she's just going through a tough time, Brooke," Lucas tries to assure me.

I shake my head, "It's not just a hard time, Luke. God! Nathan," I say, meeting his blue eyes. He raises his eyebrows. "Do you remember that time, when you two were dating, when you cheated on her again? And instead of crying about it like the Peyton now would do, she called you a bastard and then put a dead fish in the hubcap of your car?"

Nathan grimaces and nods, "That took me ages to find," he shakes his head appreciatively, a smile tugging at his lips at the memory of old Peyton. "That was such a good one."

"Exactly!" I exclaim, ignoring Luke's smirk. "And how long has it been since you saw _that _Peyton, huh?"

His brow crinkles and a deep sadness fills his eyes as he realises what I mean. "Oh," he comprehends, the wrinkle between his eyes getting deeper.

We fall into silence, and I can't help but feel like we're mourning the girl we used to know. I want to see her again.

Lying on the couch under my fleece blanket, I have the _Lion King _playing and a bowl of popcorn in my lap. Rachel's in the next room pretending she's not listening to every word and singing along under her breath. She claims Disney movies are 'over-rated' and 'childish.' I disagree wholeheartedly, hence the separate rooms.

I'm humming along to Rafiki's squashed bananas song when my phone rings. I answer, still humming, and a familiar voice leaks through.

"Brooke?"

I stop humming and pause my movie, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder. "Hey, Peyton," I say slowly.

She sighs into the phone and I can hear her sad music trickling through the phone. "I…" she starts, and I can hear rustling and crinkling paper. A bottle clinks. "I—I know you said you don't want them, but I have a lot of words for you," she admits. I don't say anything, waiting for her to continue. "I have a lot of words and not very much time, and you need to—you need to know. So…so here I go."

"O-kay," I say, drawing the word out. She takes another breath and I hear more crinkling paper.

"I just…god, Brooke, I wish I knew what happened, y'know?" I hear a clink, like a bottle on a table, and a sniff. My chest clenches when I realise she's crying again. Not heaving sobs, just gentle tears. Like she's accepted the fact. "I—when we were younger, we seemed so sure, y'know? Like we knew exactly what our lives would be. This isn't what I wanted, Brooke. This isn't what I had planned," she chokes on her confession and I nod into the phone.

"I know, Peyton. But plans have a way of getting ruined, don't they?" Don't they ever. Exhibit A: rapidly expanding belly.

She sniffles again, and I hear more crinkling and a sort of chopping noise. Scraping of an edge against a desk, another sniffle. "I miss the way it used to be," she says quietly, desperately. "I miss that snow day. I miss our family dinners. I miss days at the beach," she exhales shakily and a sob escapes. She swallows heavily. "God, Brooke, I miss it so much. I miss who I used to be."

I'm trying to keep the tears in my throat at bay as I reply, "I do, too, Peyt. But we've got to grow up sometime, I guess."

"But that's the thing, Brooke. Who says we have to grow up? Who says we have to become these shells of what we used to be? Who says we have to lose that innocence we held as children?" She's sounding frenzied, like she's finally realised something. It makes me nervous. She swallows heavily again, like she's taking a drink. "Who says we can't stop all of this?" quietly, a destination reached. Another sniffle, and my heart is pounding.

"Peyton? Peyt, what are you talking about?" I sit up straight and grip the phone tightly. Rachel's standing in the doorway watching me. Her eyebrows are raised. "You're making me nervous here, girl."

Peyton chuckles, a hollow and distant sound. "There's no need to be nervous, Brooke. It's all coming together now." More chopping, more scraping edges against desks. She continues, "The girl I was, she's lost. She's gone." Another hollow chuckle, my pulse thunders. "I'm gone, Brooke. I have more words, but I'm tired. I love you, you know."

Her breathing is all I can hear over the ringing in my ears. "Peyton?" I call into the phone, my voice growing more panicked the more I yell. "Peyton, are you there? Peyton! Peyton, answer me!" but she doesn't. A stuttered breath, a sharp inhale, her breathing is faltering and I'm so worried. She doesn't answer me.

The dial tone fills my head.

* * *

><p><em>let me know, buddies and friends. any questionscomments/rants are welcome._

_- Jasper_

_ps. if you're into Brachel and/or Breyton, I've written some in the month I wasn't writing this. (I just realised it was a MONTH and now I'm even more sorry than before.) so check those if you dare./want? _

_adios!._


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10.**

When we were thirteen, I found Peyton's journal. It was lying open on her desk and I was sitting in her rolly-chair waiting for her to get her skinnygirl ass moving. Bored and curious, I glanced at the open pages and realised my P. Sawyer wrote poetry. But upon further inspection, I realised that actually, my P. Sawyer wrote heartbreakingly sad confessions of a broken adolescent girl. Things she never told me, no matter how much I wished she would.

I stared down at the page and my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to hold them back, but I was young. I hadn't perfected the skill yet. So a few salty drops splashed onto the page and made the thick dark ink run. The lines looked like black tears, as if the poem was crying.

Peyton came sauntering out of her closet with a smirk, shrugging her jean jacket over her shoulders. When she saw my face she gasped quietly and froze, before running over to her desk and slamming the journal shut. I jumped back and tried to wipe my tears away, but she was already glaring down at me.

"Why would you read that, Brooke?" she angrily asked, clutching the journal close to her chest.

I floundered. "It was open on your desk…" I said, meeting her eyes and flinching at the betrayal I saw there.

"These are private thoughts," she insisted, "These are things I don't want you knowing. You can't just waltz in here and take over. Contrary to popular belief, the world _doesn't _revolve around you!"

I frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry, I just—it was open, Peyton. I'm sorry for looking." I could still feel tears on my cheeks as one dripped onto my lip and I tried to wipe it away stealthily. She noticed, though, and suddenly her expression softened.

"What's wrong?" she wanted to know, the indignant fury abated.

I shrugged and didn't answer, instead hopping up and bumping her hip. "Come on, we can hit the mall and scope out boys."

She gave me a look that made me sigh and press my palms to my eyes. "I just…I wish you…" I sighed again and looked pleadingly at her. She knew exactly what I wished. But she was stubborn. She still is. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Staring at me for an impossible moment, Peyton seemed to be weighing the truth of that statement before nodding slowly. "I know," she admitted, placing her journal down on the desk. "But there are just some things better left unsaid, y'know?"

And we left it at that. Even though I wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and wipe clean the pages and pages of sadgirl confessions, we left it at that. And look where it got us.

The phone is still pressed tight against my ear, making it hot. My heart beats unbelievably fast as I shout her name into the phone, hoping for an answer but receiving nothing. Rachel is sitting next to me now, trying to figure out what's happening. I have no time to explain.

"Peyton! Goddamn it, Peyton, answer me, please!" Silence and stuttered breaths and I think I might choke. Sadgirl confessions feel much more like verdicts now.

"Brooke, what the hell?" Rachel wants to know, pressing down on my shoulder. I shake my head frantically and stand, throwing the phone down onto the couch. "Brooke, you're scaring me a bit," she admits, and I spare her a glance.

She's sitting nervously on the edge of the couch, biting her lip. Her expression reminds me of a younger Peyton, asking me what she's supposed to do on Mother's Day now. Back then I had shrugged and said, "we go visit your mum, silly." But now it's not so black-and-white and I'm panicking.

"Davis," Rachel says, placing both hands on my shoulders, "Breathe. Relax. Now, tell me what the hell is going on, okay?" Her brown eyes meet mine and I take a deep breath.

"Peyton, she…shit. Rachel, we have to get over there, like, ten minutes ago." I can hear the desperation in my voice as it shakes and rasps. Rachel can, too, because I get no snide remarks. She nods decisively and pushes me toward the foyer.

"Let's roll, Brooke," she says, her hand on the small of my back.

Driving faster than we ever should, Rachel squeals around a corner and quickly rights the wheel, shooting me an apologetic glance. I ignore her as I try to banish the familiar twinge of fear I've grown accustomed to. It gnaws at my belly and chews at my nerves. The drive couldn't be longer, I think.

I throw open the door before the car is fully stopped, hopping out and racing to the front door. I reach for the knob and am horrified to find it's locked. Groaning in fear and frustration, I slam my hands against the door.

"Peyton! Peyton, open the door!"

She doesn't. Rachel nudges me aside and jabs her elbow against the glass panes, knocking the shards away carefully. Reaching inside, she unlocks the door and I throw it open. The stairs are endless.

"Peyton!" Her name is the only word running through my mind. For the first time in months, there's no Lucas or baby or imminent change—it's just her. And I'm terrified.

Her room is the first place I check. Her door is open, and the red walls lose their inherent comfort when I see Peyton lying on the floor, unmoving and unresponsive. Her nose is bleeding and there's an empty bottle of whiskey spilled beside her. The walls cast an eerie tinge against her skin.

"Peyton," a whispered horror "Peyton!" a terrifying realization. Rachel is beside me, but I don't fully register. All I can see is Peyton on her floor, and she's not drawing and she's not brooding and she's not shooting sarcastic remarks my way.

I drop to my knees beside her and shake her shoulders. Her head flops pathetically and a drop of blood splatters against the floor. There's a lump in my throat and a throbbing in my chest as her head lolls against the hardwood. It reminds me of the time we went to a party at Duke and she got drugged, except this is so much worse. This is her doing. This is what she wished for.

Rachel is talking quickly into her phone, but I can't hear the words. I can't hear anything over my thudding pulse, the blood rushing through my veins so fast I can almost feel it. I clutch Peyton's hand desperately, trying to ignore the fact that she doesn't squeeze back.

"Okay, Brooke, the paramedics are coming," Rachel tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nod absently and brush a wayward curl from Peyton's forehead. Her skin is hot.

"P. Sawyer," I whisper. It's devastating to know she can't hear me. That she didn't want to hear me, ever again. "I love you, you can't do this. Do you hear me?"

She doesn't.

The first time Peyton honestly and truly scared me, we were fourteen. Walking home from cheer practice one day, Peyton was carefully placing each foot in front of the other along the yellow dotted line in the centre. I walked beside her and watched her placements, laughing when she stumbled.

We heard a car coming and I instinctively moved to the side of the road. I expected Peyton to be right behind me, but when I glanced back she was still walking the thin yellow line. I told her to get out of the middle of the road, but she ignored me. The car was coming closer and closer, and Peyton was dangerously close to being sideswiped by an SUV.

The car honked and squealed, and Peyton stood unflinchingly on the line, a daring look on her face. It only just missed her, the wind of its passing blowing her curls around her. I yelled and tugged her away and smacked her upside the head. I wanted to know what the hell she had been thinking. She just gave me a crooked serene smile and asked me, how else would she know she's alive?

I miss her smile, I realise. Staring down at her still form, all I can think about is her smile and how I miss it. I gently wipe a trail of blood from above her lip and sniff back tears. Rachel sits beside me, both of us at a loss. I can't help but think back to the heartbreaking confessions scribbled haphazardly in a black notebook and all the times I should've saved her.

I'm growing to vehemently dislike hospitals. The sterile smell hurts my nose and the white walls do nothing to calm my nerves. I've been staring at an off-white undecorated wall for the better part of an hour, and I think it might drive me crazy. Apparently, yellow walled rooms as a child contributes to the shaping of a serial killer. I don't know what white means, but its probably similar.

Rachel sits beside me, her face unusually pale. Her eyes are unfocused and dulled. I don't even want to think about what I look like.

Thudding footsteps and a familiar voice break me from my wall-staring. Lucas has burst into the waiting room with a frantic look on his face. His shoulders instantly relax when he sees me and I stand and bury my face in his chest. Suddenly I'm crying and I can't seem to stop.

"It's okay, Pretty Girl," he tells me softly, though the waver in his voice gives him away. "She's going to be fine, okay?"

It sounds more like a question than a reassurance, but I nod anyway. His long arms around my shoulders feels more like home than anything I've felt. Pressing my face harder into his chest, I rest my ear above his heart and let the soothing rhythm calm my own. I try to get them to beat together, and for a moment I can trick myself into thinking they do.

Needing more reassurance than simple words can offer, I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his desperately. The familiarity of him calms me more, until the rushing of blood in my ears is replaced by a dull throb. He pulls away first, pressing his forehead to mine. His eyes are still closed and I can feel his soft breaths against my lips.

"I love you," I tell him in a whisper, a secret between us. A small smile tugs at his lips and I kiss it, lingering in a childish attempt to catch it.

"So much," he affirms, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Don't ever leave me, Brooke," he murmurs, his deep voice breaking. I take a shuddery breath as I nod against him.

"Don't talk crazy, Scott," I feel his smile and it makes my breathing easier.

He sighs and tucks my face into the crook of his neck, holding me to him in a way that makes me think of intertwining fingers and Sunday afternoons. We stand in the waiting room together, silent and entwined, while Peyton lies in a hospital bed somewhere beyond those doors.

Karen takes a seat beside Rachel and offers her hand, which Rachel takes shyly. Squeezing gently, Karen gives the girl a reassuring smile before turning her eyes back to Lucas and me. Rachel follows suit, never letting go of Karen's hand.

She looks small in the hospital bed. It's strange to see Peyton Sawyer looking small. 'Small' isn't really an adjective I'd use to describe her. I'd probably use something more along the lines of 'skinny bitch with killer legs and a sweet best friend.' 'Small' just seems all sorts of wrong. Like a skin that doesn't fit anymore.

She's hooked up to machines that beep and boop and whir. I keep my eyes on the heart rate monitor, the steady jagged line a minor comfort in a situation full of unease. Lucas stands beside me, his hand wrapped around mine tightly. He's like a lifeline keeping me above water. Such a comforting thought has me wondering sadly who Peyton's lifeline is, now.

I used to think it was me. But then I learned that Lucas was her saviour, and I eventually accepted the fact that my best friend and my boyfriend had a danger connection. But now, I'm not sure. Maybe the jury's still out on that one.

Lucas sighs and I feel his lips against my temple. I lean into his touch and press my cheek into his chest. The solid proof that he's right _here _is unbelievably reassuring and I inhale deeply, trying to find that scent that reminds me of home.

"How is she?" a voice asks from the doorway. I don't turn, worried if I take my eyes off of her for a moment, the heart monitor will present me with a flat line.

"Alive," Lucas answers instead, greeting Nathan with a nod of his head. Nathan comes to stand beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"She's a fighter; she'll be fine," he assures me, kissing the top of my head.

I shrug, unsure of what to think anymore. Deciding that a machine is not good enough for me, I break free from my boys and reach for her hand. It's limp in mine but I ignore that fact.

"Hey," I whisper, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You're a real piece of work, you know that, P. Sawyer?" She doesn't answer, of course. "I can't believe you almost…I can't believe it, Peyt. What the _fuck_, hey?"

Lucas wraps his arms around my waist, his chin resting atop my head. Encased in Lucas, I try to regain my composure. It's not as easy as I would've liked.

"You can't leave me, Peyton," I tell her, squeezing her hand tightly. "I'm not ready to lose you. And baby here," I pat my belly softly, "needs to meet the coolest chica in town. Aside from his mum, of course."

Lucas chuckles into my hair and I lean back into him, grabbing one of his hands and resting it over my stomach. He rubs his thumb over it and kisses my hair.

"And Peyton," Lucas chimes in, "if you ever do something like this again, I'm going to teach baby how to fight, and then I'm going to have baby kick your skinny ass."

Nathan snorts and nudges Luke's shoulder. "And I'm going to help, Sawyer."

Tangling our fingers together, I press a kiss to Lucas' knuckles and try not to cry. All these words sound wrong, because Peyton isn't retorting in her sarcastic drawl. Suddenly the room is stifling and all I want is to run away, until my lungs aren't collapsing under the weight of sadgirl confessions, manifested. I tug away from Luke and push past Nathan, running to the door and pulling it open quickly.

The hallway is quiet, and once again blaringly white. I keep running, skidding around a corner and pushing open more doors until I'm finally outside the hospital. Fresh air fills my lungs and I lean heavily against the side, trying not to cry or think about the time I broke my arm and Anna drove me to the hospital, Peyton in the seat next to me.

A strong hand wraps around my wrist and I turn to see Lucas, his ocean eyes boring into mine. "Where are you going, Pretty Girl?" he asks, tugging me to him.

I shrug and try to hold back the sob, but it happens anyway. More hot tears fall down my cheeks and I feel Lucas' long arms pull me into another embrace. I clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric between my fingers as I desperately try to hold on to something.

Honestly, I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get away from this hospital and my girl lying silent and broken. I needed to escape, as cowardly as that sounds, and I needed to do it fast. I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm hoping against hope she's okay. I don't know what to do anymore.

The doctors say she's going to be fine. They say she ingested dangerous amounts of both cocaine and alcohol, and that the combination has the potential to be deadly. They say that cocaine is a stimulant and alcohol is a depressant and the mixture of the two wreaked havoc on her heart and body. They say they're keeping her for a few days for observation. They say we can come back to visit her tomorrow, when she's not all looped up on medication and passed out cold. They say a lot of things. All I can hear, though, is Peyton's determined words as she tells me she's found a solution to everything.

I wish I knew what to say.

"Brooke?" Luke is standing in the doorway of his room, his signature squint studying me. I look up from my place on the bed and raise my eyebrows. Sighing, he steps further into the room and tugs on his t-shirt. "Are you okay, Brooke?"

I push myself onto my elbows, moaning at the added weight I'm still becoming accustomed to. "If by 'okay,' you mean pregnant and hormonal and unsure if my best friend is going to try and end her life again, then yes. I certainly am okay."

He crosses the room in three quick steps and pulls me into a hug, crushing me to him. I fall into it, clutching his shirt and adoring the fact he knew I was anything less than okay.

"I'm scared, too," Luke whispers, and I can hear the tears in his voice. "Promise me something, Brooke."

I pull back and reposition myself so I'm leaning against the headboard of his bed. Studying his face, I take note of the light stubble and gentle lines, and the shadows in his eyes. "Anything," I tell him, playing with his fingers.

"Promise me you'll never leave the way Peyton wanted to leave," he says softly. Tears are sparkling in his ocean eyes and filling his throat.

I nod shakily and trace the line of his cheek, running a finger across his brow. "I promise, Broody. You're stuck with me."

An unsteady smile tugs at his lips and he leans his forehead against mine heavily. "I wouldn't have it any other way, you know," Luke tells me. I kiss his nose and he crinkles it in an adorably boyish manner. "I love you," he breathes, his breath warming my lips.

The feeling I get every time he says that is incredible. I wish I could explain it, but I think it would just end up sounding stupid and girly. Like some thirteen-year-old's diary entry about her first kiss or something, all full of 'omg!' and 'like, wow.' So instead of trying to explain something unexplainable, I kiss him, hard. He kisses me back and I marvel at the simplicity and the easiness.

"Love you too, Lucas Scott," I inform him, running my hand through his short hair. He smiles against my lips and his fingers massage the nape of my neck. Shivers run down my spine at the contact.

Luke gently eases me down onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. I settle into the familiar bed and tug him down on top of me, running a hand along the waistband of his trousers. A moan escapes his mouth and I smile softly, kissing my way down his neck. Stopping at his pulse point, I nip playfully and he moans again. I can feel the rumble in his chest.

His long fingers brush against my stomach and I tense up momentarily. Of course, he notices, and looks at me with a concerned expression. "What is it, Pretty Girl?" he wants to know.

Sighing, I shrug and finger the necklace dangling from his neck. "I…it's stupid, never mind."

He frowns and traces my jaw. "It's not stupid, Brooke."

"Yes it is," I mumble, tugging on his necklace to bring his lips back to mine. He resists and I pout up at him, making him groan.

"You're playing dirty, Davis," he claims, giving me a look. I smile innocently up at him and he shakes his head, untangling my fingers from the chain. "Now, tell me what's wrong, or I won't kiss you again."

"Now you're the one fighting dirty," I pout, before, "I feel stupid, now."

"There's no reason to, Brooke," brushing a strand of hair from my forehead, he gives me his goofy smile. "I'll love you either way."

A grin tugs at my lips and I fiddle with his t-shirt. My Luke-induced grin fades, though and I say quietly, "I just…I don't know, I feel…I'm fat." I avoid his eyes. I can feel a blush warming my cheeks.

"What?" Luke sounds genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

Shrugging, I glance at his face. His brow is furrowed and I smooth it out with my finger, gently. "I'm…Luke, I'm not exactly fantasy girl lately. I'm getting all big and round, like one of those freaking weeble-wobbles. It's…I'm…ugh." I gesture at myself and kink a brow. "Come on."

Luke's frown deepens and his eyes have narrowed. "You," he says, hovering over me with his ocean eyes, "are crazy, Brooke Davis. There is not a single part of you," he kisses my jaw and whispers in my ear, "that is anything less than flawless." I can feel his teeth against my earlobe and I shiver. Placing his lips against my jaw, he trails kisses along until he reaches my lips. "You're beautiful. Now stop questioning that, because you know I'm always going to be there to tell you you're being ridiculous."

Our clothes can't come off fast enough, and soon enough he's showing me exactly how beautiful he thinks I am. I agree wholeheartedly, numerous times.

The hospital is just as inviting as it was the day before. Night before. Whatever, y'know? Hospitals still suck, no matter the time of day. The doctors say she should be awake now, and I'm kind of super scared to see her.

Lucas holds my hand tightly. It helps. We make our way down the halls, our footsteps echoing against the white walls and filling my ears. Reaching her room, we find we're not the first visitors. Haley and Nathan are at her bedside already, Haley with her hand clutching Peyton's desperately. I can tell she's been crying; her cheeks are still wet.

Luke and I hover in the doorway for a moment before I break into their friendship bubble. "Hey, guys," I say softly, looking past Naley and meeting Peyton's embarrassed gaze. "How ya doing?"

Nathan stands to give me room next to her bed. Luke lingers behind me, greeting Naley with hugs. I ignore them all and focus on the stupid girl in the bed. "Feeling better?" I ask her, trying to keep the anger from my voice. She shrugs and avoids my eyes.

"I'm fine," she tells me quietly. I'm awfully upset to hear the slight disappointment in her tone.

"Oh, wow, that sucks, hey?" I tried, I really did. "Being alive is just the worst, isn't it?"

Naley and Luke have definitely noticed the lack of uproariously happy reuniting going on, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. Haley steps beside me, pressing a hand against my arm.

"Brooke," she warns, frowning. I ignore her.

Peyton still isn't looking at me. She's got her hands in her lap, twisting in that nervous way of hers. This infuriates me more, because she doesn't even have the guts to look me in the eye. After everything she's been through, she's still the same.

"Look at me," I tell her evenly, quietly. Haley releases my arm and stands back, reaching for Nathan.

Peyton seems to struggle with herself for a moment, before her bloodshot hazel eyes look meekly up from her warring fingers into my face. They shimmer under the fluorescents. The tubes under her nose make my stomach flip.

"You're an idiot," she flinches and nods, "A straight up, no questions asked dumb-ass. You know that?" She looks down again and I reach forward angrily, grabbing her chin in my hand. "Look at me," I reiterate, glaring unwaveringly into her eyes. She blinks slowly and a tear leaks out, dripping onto my thumb. "What you did was selfish. It was selfish and stupid and I hate you for it, Peyton."

She gasps and more tears hit my fingers clutching her chin. Struggling to get away, she jerks her head, but I don't let her. Haley is reaching forward again to interrupt, but Nathan holds her back. He knows how this works. I pulled it on him many times before.

"But you know what's worse?" I ask her, trying to keep my voice from breaking and failing miserably, "what's worse is no matter how many times you fuck up, no matter how many times you break my heart, Peyton, I'm still gonna be right _here_." Brushing a curl from her forehead, I shake my head. A tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly. "It hurts that, if things had gone your way, you wouldn't be."

Her lips part and I can feel the _whoosh _of air as she exhales shakily. "I'm sorry," she whispers, the words tumbling from her lips. "I'm so sorry."

Shaking my head softly, I touch her cheek, catching a tear. "I told you I didn't want your apologies, P. Sawyer."

"I don't know what else to give," she admits in a small voice.

"How about you give me your word? Make me a promise, you crazy girl," I can feel her pulse beneath my palm. It's thudding. "Don't ever do something so mind-numbingly stupid again, you hear me?"

A watery laugh escapes from her lips and I find myself smiling. "I can do that," she assures me, meeting my eyes. I nod and press a kiss to her forehead.

"Idiot," I mumble into her skin. She rolls her eyes. A sob behind me makes me whirl around, and I'm greeted by the sight of Haley crying desperately into Nathan's chest.

"Haley, what—" but suddenly she's clutching me to her, and tugging Peyton into the mix.

Nathan chuckles and Luke ruffles her hair, saying, "Calm down, Haley-bub. Everyone's fine now."

Eventually we have to leave. The doctors came back and said they had to do a psych evaluation and blah blah blah, so they sent us away with the promise that we could come back later that evening. I spend the rest of the day at the beach with Naley and Luke, watching waves.

Leaning back into Luke's chest, I smile when he tightens his hold around me. I tilt my head back and kiss his chin. "Should we ask now?" I ask him quietly, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. He looks down at me and purses his lips in thought.

Luke and I had been putting a lot of thought into the upcoming baby extravaganza. It was only a few months away, now, and there were a certain few things that definitely needed taking care of. I already know whom _I_ want, but Luke is still on the fence. The new Peyton development complicates things a bit, but I figure we could bend some rules, because since when have I followed them?

"Right now?" he whispers back, chancing a glance at the couple beside us. They're too wrapped up in their Naley love to notice.

"Well, yeah. I figure it's a great time," I shrug. Luke nods and hugs me tight.

"Okay, together or separate?" he asks, staring at them from the corner of his eye.

My brow furrows as I consider, "Separate. You take Haley. Mission is a go, repeat, mission is a go. Cheery out." I hop up and kiss Luke quickly before nudging Naley apart. "Nate, come with me!"

He gives me a weird look and I ruffle his hair. Kissing Haley, he gets up lithely and I grab his arm. Luke reaches for Haley's hand and tugs her over to him.

I pull Nathan toward the water and stop once the waves cover my toes. Digging my feet into the sand, I stare out at the ocean and watch the waves. I feel Nathan stand next to me, his eyes on my profile.

"Tough few days, huh?" he comments, crossing his arms. I nod, smiling at the understatement.

"You certainly have a knack for stating the obvious, Nate," I tease, glancing at him. He narrows his eyes and nudges my shoulder.

"Whatever, Brookie-Bear," he responds, sticking out his tongue. I laugh and lean into him. Nathan wraps an arm around my shoulders and I'm reminded of the time in ninth grade we came out here and I told him about the mistakes I made. He hugged me then, too, with the same comforting air.

I sigh and he notices, glancing down at me. "What's up?"

"I have a big favour to ask you," I tuck my hands into Luke's hoody pocket and meet his gaze.

"Do I need to beat someone up?" he asks jokingly. I snort and smack his chest.

"No, you caveman. So you know how I'm pregnant and all, right?"

"What! Brooke Penelope Davis, you better be lying to me."

I roll my eyes and nudge him again. "Shut up. Anyway, I was thinking—"

Nathan gasps theatrically. I elbow his stomach. "Sorry, carry on."

"As I was _saying_," I give him a look, which is ruined by my smile. "I was thinking away, because I'm much more than a pretty face…" Nathan snorts. I ignore him. "And I came to the conclusion that, despite all your immense flaws and generally awful personality, I wouldn't want anyone else to be the God-daddy of my kick-ass baby."

Apparently, Nathan has no smart-ass remarks to say to this. I glance up at him and smile at the shocked expression on his face. His blue eyes are wide as he struggles to find words. "R-really?"

Smiling, I wrap my arm around his waist. "Obviously, Hot Shot. I love you."

He grins hugely, from ear to ear. Hugging me tightly, he laughs disbelievingly in my ear. "I'd be honoured, Brookie-Bear."

A loud squeal from up the beach tells me that Luke's asked Haley, too.

All of us head back to the hospital after Haley got herself under control. She still occasionally would glance at Luke and I and smile a watery smile, but other than that, we're good. Peyton is doing better than earlier, even, and she laughs at a few of Nathan's jokes. I hold her hand the whole time, and her eyes brighten when Luke kisses her cheek. I try not to squeeze her hand too hard.

The fact that she tried to kill herself is basically a huge pink whale in the room. None of us want to mention it, because right now everything feels so normal. The truth of the matter would break that. None of us want to be the one to do that.

Karen stops by, telling Peyton they've been unable to reach Larry still. His boat is apparently off the coast of Mexico somewhere, and they can't get a hold of the ship. Peyton nods and casts a sad glance out the darkening window, trying to pretend like that didn't break her heart a little. I know better.

Just before visiting hours end, I slip out with the excuse of a bathroom break and go to the front desk, my most charming smile in place.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to Dr Kensington?"

The receptionist glances up at me and nods, paging him. I smile in thanks, leaning on my elbows and waiting for him. She gives me a look of recognition and says, "You're Brooke, right?"

My brow furrows as I reply, "Yes, I am."

She nods in a knowing sort of way. "I remember you. Dr Kensington talked about you a lot when you were his patient. Seems you made an impression," she winked, smiling.

I smile back, "A good one, I hope."

"Of course," she assures, "he said you had a wonderful sense of humour, and he said that even through your bruising you had a beautiful smile."

"That Dr Kensington is a charming devil, it's true," I blush, ducking my head.

"Speaking of," she points behind me, "there he is."

I glance over my shoulder and wave at Dr Kensington. A look of concern washes over his face and he walks faster.

"Is everything okay, Brooke?" he asks quietly, touching my shoulder gently.

"Yes, doctor, everything's fine. I actually have a favour to ask," I bite my lip and look hopefully up at him.

He cocks his head and straightens his glasses. "What kind of favour?"

I rub the bridge of my nose as I say, "Kind of a big one?"

Sighing, Dr Kensington gives me a resigned smile. "What is it, Miss Davis?"

I fill him in on Peyton and her idiotic attempts and I watch as his gaze softens and his shoulders slouch. "So, basically, I'm asking if you could—just this once—reconsider the visiting hours rule and let me stay with her tonight?"

Glancing around, Dr Kensington removes his glasses and cleans them on his shirt. He takes his time and I shift nervously, biting my lip. "Well," he begins, and I hold my breath, "Normally we don't allow overnight visits. But you and Miss Sawyer may be an exception to this, on one condition." He fixes me with a stern look and I nod quickly. "You must let her rest. You can't keep her up all night gossiping about boys and make-up and whatever else it is you girls talk about. And you mustn't cause her any unnecessary stress, either, Brooke. She's been through a lot, as I'm sure you know."

I nod vigorously, pulling him into a quick hug. "Thank you, Dr Kensington!" Pulling away quickly, I skip away, calling over my shoulder, "And your smile isn't so bad, either, sir."

I skip back into Peyton's room and plop down on Luke's lap. He's sitting in a chair next to Peyton's bed holding her hand, and he laughs as I wriggle around trying to get comfortable.

"Easy, Pretty Girl," he teases, wrapping his free arm around me. I smirk and kiss his nose before turning to Peyton.

"Alright, bestest friend. You and me are having a sleep-over tonight."

She stares at me with those big hazel eyes. "What?" she asks dumbly.

Rolling my eyes, I nudge her shoulder with my palm. "Duh, P. Sawyer, you didn't think I'd let you be all alone tonight, did you?"

"But…you're not allowed to stay overnight?"

"Normally, no, but I've got some connections, girly. And that means you and me are gonna have a boppin' time at Tree Hill Memorial."

Haley shakes her head and Nathan smirks, both knowing by now it's better to just accept it. Luke kisses the nape of my neck and Peyton furrows her brow.

"So…you're staying here tonight?" she asks.

"Yes. Come on, Sawyer, get your head in the game."

"Cool."

I no, "I know, I've never had a hospital slumber party. Think of all the prescription drugs just waiting to be popped." Grinning jokingly, I shake my head. "But seriously, P. Sawyer, you're not alone."

She looks back into her lap at my words and mumbles an 'I know' into it. She'd better.

A haggard nurse pops her head in a few minutes later and announces the end of visiting hours. Dr Kensington has already talked to her about our arrangement, apparently, because she just gives me a smile as I kiss Lucas goodbye.

"You're kind of the best, Brooke Davis," he murmurs, playing with the ends of my hair.

"Tell me something I don't know," I joke, before hugging him tightly. I fit perfectly into him. "Don't make fun of me, but I'm gonna miss you tonight."

He chuckles; I feel the rumble against my cheek. "I'm gonna miss you too, Cheery," he tells me, kissing me softly. "Dream of me?"

I kink an eyebrow and smirk. "PG-13 or R-rated?

He laughs and kisses my forehead. "Goodnight, Brooke. I love you."

"Love you, too," I murmur, before he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. I linger on the closed door for a moment longer before turning back to Peyton.

"Ready for this, P. Sawyer?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. She groans and falls back into her pillows.

We're tucked onto her small hospital bed, her cheek resting against my chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my torso. I'm lying on my back with my cheek in her hair, having woken up a moment ago. I'm not sure why, but now i'm listening to the comforting rhythm of her soft breaths. My eyes still haven't adjusted to the light and they're threatening to close at any moment.

A soft noise causes me to glance over at the side of the bed and I think I see a tall figure sitting silently in the chair Luke sat in earlier, but I'm too sleepy to know for sure. The moonlight casts an eerie glow, covering the whole room in shadow. Before I can investigate this potential figure further, my eyes have fallen shut and I'm drifting back into the dreams Luke mentioned earlier.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** we about to get surreyous here guys, so brace yourselves._

Taking your own life is never the answer, to any question ever posed. If you're hurting and lost and scared, talk to someone. Let someone know you're feeling depressed and as if there's no other way out, because there always is. It doesn't happen immediately, over-night or over the span of a week, but eventually it does get better. And you sure as hell better be around to notice the change.

So again, if you're ever feeling lost and hopeless and numb, talk to someone you love. Talk to someone you hate. Talk to someone you don't even know. Hell, talk to me! Just...talk to _someone_, because the world is a better place with you in it. And I hope that one day you'll realise that.

* * *

><p><em>and back. but seriously. <em>

_let me know what you thought of this chapter, guys. It was everywhere, I know, but we've got a lot of things to get through, it seems. And I really wanted the godparents discussion in this one, to take away from the Peyton dramz. AND I'm sorry for the lack of Brucas in other chapters, but they're back in this one! hey-o._

_love me love me love me!_

_love Jasper. (seriously. love.)_


	11. Chapter 11

_hi miscreants. I'm a little unsure about this chapter, it just sort of popped out and I don't know what to make of it. also, sorry it's so short. maybe I got lazy? maybe. _

_let me know, pals 'n gals._

* * *

><p><strong>Part 11.<strong>

"Brooke."

The hauntingly familiar voice calls me and I turn around sharply. My mouth drops open in shock and wonder, but he just smiles and opens his arms wide.

"Miss me?" he asks with his crooked grin. I step shakily forward, words still escaping me. He shakes his head and opens his arms wider. "Come on, girly, I missed you."

I trip forward in my haste to run to him, hugging him tightly. His typical flannel shirt is comforting against my cheek. He hugs me back and I can feel his grin against my hair.

"Wha—how—this is crazy…" I mutter, holding him at arm's length and examining him. He looks exactly as he did that day at the school, only he's smiling. He's whole.

"I guess that means _you're _crazy, Brooke."

I give him a look and he laughs again. "Watch it, bucko," I warn. He shakes his head and pulls me back into him.

He has the same crooked smile as Lucas. I can't stop staring, and he keeps catching me. "How have you been?" he asks with a grin as he catches me again.

I look away and shrug, "Y'know, the usual. Peyton's the one that's not doing so hot."

"Yeah, I know," he answers sadly. I grab his calloused hand. "But you guys, you're all fighters. You're all stronger than you know."

I'm not sure what to say, so I remain silent. He wants to ask more—he wants to ask about him. I can feel it. "He's doing fine, you know."

He looks up at me and I can see relief in his familiar eyes. "I was hoping he would be. How's he handling the situation you two have wrangled yourselves into?"

"That's a nice way to put it, thanks," I roll my eyes. "He's kind of awesome, actually. He's been sweet and understanding, and when I make him go get me ice cream in the middle of the night he just smiles and kisses my nose. I think he gets that from you."

He exhales heavily and holds my hand tighter. "He's a good boy. He always has been. And you," he meets my eyes, "are an amazing girl. You're gonna be fine." I can feel tears in my eyes. He sees them and smiles shakily, "So when's the big day?"

Deep breaths don't lose it, "A few months. In the summer. Karen's planning a baby shower." He looks sad but tries to hide it. He's so much like Lucas.

"I'm happy for you, Brooke. You're going to be a wonderful mother. And Luke, he's going to be a great father. Nothing like his own, that's for sure," he scoffs.

I shake my head and say, "I think he's going to be just like his father." At his indignant cry, I elaborate, "He's already so much like you, and I can only see him doing all he can for this baby, like you did for him. So I think that he's going to be just like his father. The one that counts, anyway."

He doesn't say anything and I'm worried maybe I've offended him or something. I bite my lip and chance a glance, nervous. But his misty eyes are grateful and he hugs me sideways, pressing his cheek to my hair. We don't speak for a while, and I'm still reeling at this whole notion. How this is at all possible is beyond me.

"You've got to get back," he tells me softly. I shake my head.

"I'm going to miss you," I whisper.

He presses his lips to my hair and I can't remember the last time I felt like I had a father. I think it was back when my grandfather told me he loved me more than the stars in the sky. "I'll always be with you—with both of you. Remember that." He waits for me to nod before continuing, "Now you have to get back there, Brooke. There are people that need you very much. I love you like my own, you know."

Tears drip onto my lips as I take a shaky breath and say, "I love you too, Keith."

He hugs me once more before pulling away, breaking free, drifting. "Be careful," he tells me, before fading into the black.

An arm hitting my face wakes me from my whack-job dreams. I groan and shove the arm, rubbing at my jaw. "What the fuck, Peyt?" I moan, my voice thick with sleep.

She mutters something unintelligible and burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. Her soft breaths warm my skin. I'm jealous of the fact she's still fast asleep. I want to get back to the dream-world where everything's as it should be.

Early morning sun is peeking through the heavy blinds pulled loosely across the window. I watch the tiny dust particles dance in the rays, willing myself to get some more sleep. But I'm still shaken from my dream conversation with Keith. His last words were curious and they made me kind of nervous. Be careful of what?

Damn ghosts and their dream e-mails.

The door creaks and I jump slightly. Peyton moans and wraps her skinny arms around me tighter, effectively pinning me to the bed. She's stronger than she looks.

Luke's blonde head peeks around the door and he grins sheepishly when he sees I'm awake. "Sorry," he whispers, stepping into the room. "I didn't mean to wake you." He hovers over the bed and glances at Peyton before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. Peyton grumbles in her sleep.

"Don't flatter yourself, Scott," I say, "I've been awake for ages. These hospital beds are nothing to write home about."

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. "You're something else, Davis."

"As if you could place me in those _boring_ people categories. I'm in a league of my own," I whisper back, mindful of the girl asleep on my chest.

Luke rolls his eyes and tangles our fingers together. "How could I have forgotten," he drawls, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "So how was the Tree Hill Memorial Sleep Over? Everything you dreamed of and more? Did I miss out on any lingerie pillow fights or what?"

I smirk and say, "A lady never tells, and a gentleman never asks."

He growls and tucks his head into my neck, kissing below my ear. "Don't make me mark my territory, Pretty Girl," he warns, nipping at my earlobe. I hum in response and Peyton mumbles again, her head knocking my shoulder.

"To be perfectly honest, I have no problem with you having your wicked way with me," I tell him, "but I'm thinking it could maybe wait 'til Peyton isn't asleep on top of me. I'm not really into the whole voyeurism thing," I give him a look, "And if you are we need to seriously reconsider this whole thing."

Luke shrugs and grins devilishly, "I have no complaints to Peyton joining in. As to the publicity of the act, I'm sure we could find a proper venue."

Smacking his chest, I frown and glare at his smiling face. "You better be joking, jackass."

He shrugs again and shakes his head. "You know I am, Pretty Girl. I don't want anyone else," leaning in, he rubs his nose with mine, "but you." I think I swoon a bit.

"That's a relief, 'cause I don't think you could get anyone else, Broody. You're not exactly a catch, you know. Much too serious," I tease, pulling up the corner of his lips with my finger. He sulks and nips at my finger, laughing at my raspy squeal. I like the sound of his laugh.

"Have I told you lately," he begins, tracing the shell of my ear, "how absolutely beautiful you are?" Meeting his ocean eyes I feel myself start to drown. (Lost at sea.)

Another swoon. "You have not. A girl could get some serious self-esteem issues with such a perceived lack of hotness, you know." He rolls his eyes and brushes my fringe back gently, softly.

"Well, you, Brooke Davis, are the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says. "And if I could, I would write about your endless beauty like one of those literary greats," faint kiss, a whisper of skin, "but unfortunately, they have yet to create words to describe someone as perfect as you."

Nearly fainted. I can feel myself blushing, my cheeks warming under his intense ocean stare. A small smile is quirking his lips and I find myself entirely unable to look away. "Keep it up, Broody, and that pipe-dream threesome could be a reality," I say, trying to push my blush back. His little grin just grows at my clear lack of response and kisses my nose.

"You're even prettier when you blush," he whispers against my lips, before pressing his own against mine. I get so swoony and caught-up I almost forget Peyton is sleeping on my chest, until I reach up to tangle my fingers in his hair and Peyton groans in protest.

She lifts her curly head and her bleary eyes focus on my and Luke's faces, centimeters apart. "Oh, come on, guys!" she complains, pushing off me and scooting away. "Not while I'm right _here!"_

Luke raises his eyebrows suggestively and whispers, "So, reality you say?"

My laughter snorts out my nose and I shake my head, palming his face. "Shut it, Broody."

He feigns insult and pushes away from the bed. "My heart bleeds by the razor-edge of your words, Miss Davis." Wiping at his eyes, he takes a shaky breath. I laugh at his antics, at the goofy side of Luke that is almost always overshadowed by his serious side. I love it. I hope baby has it.

"From the deepest corners of _my _heart, I apologise." I pout and move over, snuggling into Peyton's side and patting the bed. "Join us?"

He pretends to consider, before leaping onto the small bed and straddling us both. Flopping down, he buries his head in my shoulder and becomes a dead weight. Peyton struggles to get her arm out from under him as I laugh and poke at his side.

"You're a d-bag," Peyton moans, finally freeing her arm and tickling the back of his neck. Luke squirms at the touch and turns his head to Peyton.

"Love you too, Skinny Girl," he smiles, flicking her curls. Her cheeks heat up at his words and I pinch his side. "And you," he adds, turning to me and kissing my shoulder. I roll my eyes, running my free hand through his hair. His contented humming vibrates against my collarbone.

"My arm is asleep, fat ass," Peyton announces, squirming under Luke. He sighs and pushes himself off of us, settling his lanky form into the chair at our bedside.

A sudden memory hits me and I frown, trying to place it. A shadowy figure, a scuffling, maybe a flash? A bedside chair, blonde curls tickling my chin, steady heartbeat against my chest. Uneasy belly rumblings.

Lucas wriggles in his seat and reaches under, pulling up a few crinkled sheets of glossy paper. A matching frown adorns his face as he flips them over, examining. I feel my stomach tighten at the look on his face.

"What are these?" he asks quietly. I can see his knuckles have gone white.

Peyton tilts her head and shrugs, reaching for them. "I don't know, let me see." Lucas tugs his arm back quickly, away from Peyton's grasping fingers. She purses her lips at his movements.

"Where did these come from?" he asks again, his voice dangerously calm. Another flip, another knot.

"Lucas, what are they?" I balance on my elbows and lean over Peyton. He tears his eyes from the glossy paper and looks at me. Fear and anxiety cloud his ocean eyes (Lost at sea, a storm is coming).

Wordlessly, he hands me the mystery papers. Squinting and figuring, he watches as I examine them. I feel his eyes on me as I uncrinkle the first one and feel my stomach leap into my throat.

Peyton whimpers beside me, but I don't register. My pulse thuds erratically and I feel a cool sweat break out, coating my skin. I shake my head forcefully, not comprehending. Not wanting to know these awful truths.

The crinkled papers drop into my lap, the fluorescents catching the glossy sheen. The first is a photo of me, banging frantically at Peyton's front door. I know exactly what night that was; it's burned into the backs of my eyelids (praying for blindness). Peyton unconscious on a hardwood floor, red walls pressing down, bathing everything in the crimson glow. Sadgirl words and ignored cries, desperate and silent. Empty bottle of suicide wishes, white powder tickets to oblivion. I can't get it out of my head.

The second photo is of Peyton being loaded into the ambulance, her skin grey and faded. Her curls are splayed over the pillow and they look like a halo. It's beautiful, though I'll never say that out loud. It's a beautiful, tragic photo. A terrifying piece of evidence, forcing us to recognize the fact that it _happened_.

The third photo, though, is the one that stops my heart completely. It picks up double-time as I stare at the glossy page, ignoring Peyton's laboured breaths and Luke's whispered frantic words of comfort. The thudding in my ears and in my throat is all I can hear as I stare at a photo of me and Peyton curled up together on her hospital bed. Her thin arms are wrapped around my torso, her face pressed into my shoulder. My fingers are tangled in her halo-hair. Both our faces are illuminated by a manufactured flash of white light.

"Oh my god, he was here, he was right _here," _Peyton cries, gaping at the proof discarded in my lap. Again the twisting knot in my stomach clenches. Lucas fingers the ends of my hair and calls my name, but I'm still staring at the photos.

Turning the photos over, the knot tightens painfully as I realise he's written little notes. A coppery taste fills my mouth and I feel harsh and unforgiving hands around my throat, choking and stealing.

_"'Did you know the stars in the sky are just loved ones that are gone now?'_

_ I wonder, which star will you be? _

_See you soon, B. Davis."_

As an extra-fun party-favour addition, he's drawn a winking smile face. The coppery taste in my mouth intensifies and I feel it coming. Pushing Lucas' hands from my face, I lean over the bed just in time to wretch charmingly into the rubbish bin.

* * *

><p><em>end scene.<em>

_so...yeah...not sold on it, but I like the idea of quicker updates. also, I'm going back to school soon and who KNOWS how busy I'll be? _

_review, holler, hit me up, drop me a line, feedback, comment, rant, I've run out of ways to say it I think._

_love me love me love me!_

_love Jasper forever and always._


	12. Chapter 12

_hi team. I'm phenomenally sorry. I suck, I really honestly do. not a clue where the time went, but that's how it is, I guess. School life and other awful things wormed their way to the top of my priority list._

_As it is, I don't like this chapter. It's been sitting on my computer for almost a month, and I just haven't been able to make anything of it. So I guess it's a filler chapter. And for that, I am sorry, for both the shortness and the low quality._

_Hopefully next chapter, shit gets more exciting!_

* * *

><p><strong>Part 12.<strong>

I wipe my mouth and cough. My throat is burning and my eyes sting. I can feel the bed shaking with Peyton's frantic sobs, and Lucas is brushing my hair back and kissing my forehead. He's telling me that it's okay it's fine I'm safe he's here. That sort of seems like bullshit now, because the pictures in my hand are telling me something completely different.

He was here. He was in this hospital room with Peyton and I as we slept on her bed. He was here, he was at her house, and who knows where else he's been? My heart pounds painfully in my chest and my ears ring. Lucas is still trying to convince me that everything will work out.

I swallow down more panic-vom and meet his ocean eyes. He stops whispering and just stares into my eyes; I can see myself reflected in his pupils.

"Everything is so far from okay, Luke," I say, grimacing at the taste in my mouth.

Peyton is flipping shit. A nurse comes in, alerted by her panicked sobbing, and is now trying to get an explanation out of us. Lucas reluctantly turns away from me and hands the nurse the pictures.

"These were left here, sometime last night."

The nurse looks down at them and her eyes widen comically. If I weren't super terrified, maybe I would've laughed. As it is, I don't. She flounders, her eyes darting from picture to picture, lingering dreadfully on the one taken in the hospital, before paging security.

"So, Ms Davis, you have no idea when these were taken?" A big detective with a thick moustache and a round face asks me from his place at the foot of Peyton's bed. We haven't left the hospital, because of Peyton's situation. The cops came to us.

"Of course I know when they were taken," I grumble. Lucas runs his fingers along my spine. "The first one is two days ago, when this one-" I gesture toward Peyton "-went all 'Girl, Interrupted' on me. The second one is when the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, also on 'Girl, Interrupted' night. And the third one," I have to stop and breathe. My stomach curls as I think about it. "The third one was taken last night. I was given special permission to stay with her overnight, and I woke up sometime in the night. I don't know why I did, but I glanced over at the side of the bed and I thought I saw someone there. Then in the morning Lucas found those."

The detective nods and scribbles on his notepad. He glances over at Peyton, who has been staring out of the window silently for a long time now. It's creeping me out, and I think the detective is a little uncomfortable with it, too.

"Alright, so you found these this morning," he repeats. "And the notes? Any idea what those mean?"

I give him an incredulous look and Lucas shakes his head angrily. "Oh, you know, I think it's a sweet poem filled with sparkles and puppies," he scoffs, squinting and fuming. "What in the hell do you _think _those notes mean?"

The detective eyes Lucas, his lips thinning. "I know you," he says slowly. "You're the boy that came to me a while ago asking about a Derek Sommers, aren't you?"

Lucas runs a hand over his face and groans. I kiss his shoulder gently, pressing my forehead into it, and I feel him relax slightly. "Yes, detective, that was me. And you guys-" his voice gets hard again "-brought in the wrong guy! The monster was with Brooke and Peyton! He almost killed her!"

My hand traces his cheekbone in an attempt to distract him, so he doesn't blow up at a police officer. He turns to me, his ocean eyes blazing, and I quirk my brow. "Geez, Broody, you're hot when you're worked up." I wink and his face softens.

"You're always hot," he says quietly. "You're beautiful, actually."

"Yeah, yeah," I smile, waving him off. "Just don't forget it."

He chuckles and the muscles in his back relax against my hand. I slip it under the hem of his t-shirt and press my fingers into his spine.

The detective clears his throat and says, "Actually, we brought in the right guy. The guy that attacked your girlfriend and her friend isn't Derek Sommers-"

"Clearly," I mutter, but he ignores me.

"-and right now, we don't know _who _he is. All we know is he now has an unhealthy obsession with Miss Davis here, and these photographs are proof of his dedication." A heavy sigh escapes his lips, causing his moustache to twitch. "All we can do right now is assign protective detail to Miss Davis and Miss Sawyer, and set up a tip-line. Can you give me a description of this man?"

I swallow heavily and glance at Peyton. She's stiffened. Reaching over, I tug her cold hand into mine. "He's tall," I begin. My mouth has gone dry. "And, um, he's blonde…longish hair, I guess?" I shrug and press my cheek into Luke's shoulder. His smell fills my nose and I feel the knot in my belly loosen, just a bit. "He has blue eyes, but…they're…cold? Like he's not-like he's not really there or something, like he's seeing something else."

The detective nods slowly, scribbling it all into his notepad. "Good, Miss Davis, good. Anything else? Body type, defining scars, tattoos, anything?"

I try to remember, but I find that picturing Pretend Derek really freaks me out. All I can see are his choking hands and sadistic sneer and it makes my heart beat so hard I think everyone in the room can hear it. I think Luke does. Suddenly his lips are at my ear and he's whispering his writer's words and gently squeezing the nape of my neck and I try to focus on him and his ocean eyes rather than Pretend Derek and his…everything.

"He…he looked athletic…he had a-a crooked smile and, um…"

"He has a tattoo."

Peyton's voice interrupts my stuttering. The detective lifts his head and fixes Peyton with a look.

"What kind of tattoo, Miss Sawyer? Where?"

She looks uncomfortable. Her hand in mine is clammy. She glances at Lucas, her eyes lingering on his face before she continues, "An angel. On his back."

I frown, because I certainly don't remember that. Shouldn't I remember that? Luke's finger smoothes out the wrinkle between my eyes. "Don't worry about it, Brooke," he whispers. "You had other things on your mind. Y'know, like saving your friend and not dying and all." I kink my brow and his lips tug up at the corners. "That kind of takes precedence over creepy body art, huh?"

His lips on my forehead forgo an answer on my part. Peyton goes back to catatonic Peyton, staring and pale. The detective scribbles a few more notes before nodding, making his chin wobble.

"Alright. I'll get this description out. Everyone in town will be looking for this guy. He's not getting anywhere near you," he nods at me, "or your baby, y'hear?" He doesn't wait for my answer before turning to Peyton. "And Miss Sawyer, you've got nothing to worry about. A patrol car will be outside your house 24 hours a day. We'll get this guy."

His words are supposed to be reassuring, but Peyton doesn't even acknowledge them. She's still lost in her little sadgirl mind.

"Thanks, Detective," Luke reaches out a hand and shakes the detective's.

"Of course, Mr Scott. Get some rest, girls."

It's quiet once he leaves. Peyton's tugged her hand out of mine and is now staring silently out the window. I share an uneasy glance with Luke; he just shrugs.

"Leave her be for a bit," he tells me, pushing my fringe back. "This is a lot to process."

Swirling ocean eyes, the sweetest smile. Without it—without _him—_I'm not really sure what I'd be. Y'know, I could've pulled a Peyton, and honestly, I probably would've. And that may sound overly dramatic or whatever, but it's totally true. It's no secret my parents suck: everyone knows they're just about as loving and kind as Scar from the Lion King. Add onto the sucky parent-love the fact that I had no best friend and no boyfriend and no one to turn to—save a sarcastic red head with more plastic parts than Mattell—and I think that that definitely spells out 'desperate enough to do something stupid.'

So yeah, it's gonna sound like a little girl's diary (again, but I guess that's unavoidable), but I owe everything to Luke. He's my best friend. He's my Nala, I guess, if we wanna stay on the Lion King reference train. And without him, without his ocean eyes and beautiful words and big hugs, I'd be lost, I think. But I don't know how to say this all to him. I've never been the most eloquent.

"I love you," I tell him, sparing him from my inner mono-talkfest. I figure those three words sum it up better than I could anyway.

His lips quirk up and he rubs his nose against mine. "Love you too, Pretty Girl. Even with your crazy pregnant mood swings and weird food requests."

I laugh and nudge his chest. My hand lingers over his heart; I've always been reassured by the constant 'thump-thump.' I always try to sync mine to his. Maybe one of these days it'll work.

"Watch it, Scott."

Karen comes to pick Luke and me up. Peyton's still got to stay, what with the whole sadgirl pityfest she threw for herself featuring Jack Daniels and a lot of cocaine. She still hasn't said much since Luke found those photos and I'm worried about her.

"Hey, P. Sawyer," I rasp, brushing her curls back. Her face looks sunken and drawn. I think she's stuck in that night. "We'll be back first thing tomorrow, okay?"

She nods imperceptibly and her eyes drift back toward the window.

"Love you, Peyt," but she doesn't reply.

I reach the door before I realise Luke's not behind me. He's hesitant, watching Peyton with stormy eyes. Taking a step back, I wait for him to notice me watching him. He steps closer to her and places a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he leans down, meeting her lost gaze, "we're gonna be okay, Peyt. You know that, right?"

I try not to be jealous, but he makes her light up with simple words and a gentle touch. She's my best friend and I can't save her. But maybe Lucas can.

"I hope so," she whispers back, soft and broken. Maybe Lucas can.

"Alright Pretty Girl, what's on your mind?"

We're lying in Luke's backyard, his head on my stomach and my fingers in his hair. The sun is slowly going down, painting everything bright and vibrant and it bathes him golden. I glance down and shrug, my fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Your hair's getting scruffy, Boyfriend," I say. "Maybe we can do something about it…got a bowl?"

He scoffs and tickles my side. "We could have matching haircuts," he teases, rolling onto his side and looking up at me from the bump slowly forming on my belly. "Maybe even get matching t-shirts and shoes, with cute slogans and everything. Mine could say 'baby daddy.'" He smirks at me when I swat his arm, but suddenly gets serious. His warm hand rests on my stomach, palm flat against the expanse of skin. "And yours…" he says softly, kissing my belly, "yours could say 'Mrs. Scott."

His voice is soft and gentle and nervous. A blush has coloured his cheeks and his fingers are tapping out an anxious beat on my stomach.

Whoa.

* * *

><p><em>...yeah...<em>

_sorry! a million year wait and this is all I give you. just the worst. forgive me? _

_stick around for next chapter my darlings, and let me know about this one!_

_l_

_o_

_v_

_e_

_4_

_e_

_v_

_e_

_r,_

_JASPER! you're all wonderful._


End file.
